


Half In Shadow, Half In Light

by Laura_McEwan



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-08
Updated: 2005-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-04 05:32:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_McEwan/pseuds/Laura_McEwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obi-Wan learns that the galaxy is full of people just like himself. This story was written for the 2005 zine "Songs of Innocence, Songs of Experience", a beautiful suede-covered collection edited and produced by Gloriana and The_Emu. Art by Shiun and Gloriana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half In Shadow, Half In Light

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the 2005 zine **Songs of Innocence, Songs of Experience**, a beautiful suede-covered collection edited and produced by Gloriana and The Emu.
> 
> Dedicated to Alex, Queen of the Epic Story, for without you, my friend, my writing life would not exist. I can never express the depths of my gratitude for your kindness and love. You shall always live in a special place in my heart.

Slim hands folded beneath a cleft chin, small elbows rested on cross-legged knees. Sleepy eyes contemplated the midnight sky. Deep and dark, scattered with points of light like brilliant jewels on a bed of soft, black velvet. The view was deceiving. Space was hard and cold, the glittering stars burning in ice-fire, not soft at all. The boy tilted his head to one side, considering.

His eyes picked out the familiar constellations. Merkur the Warrior, his spear ready to plunge into Turis the Beast. The Timekeeper, a diamond-shaped pattern, one prominent star at each apex, connected by smaller, less bright stars and planets.

Herath, Goddess of Love, her harp in hand. Her lover, Burien, offering her his heart.

He closed his eyes and imagined the two heavenly bodies moving across the sky to touch and dance as the stars wheeled about them, infinite passion twisting the fabric of space.

"Obi-Wan?" A soft voice roused him from his dreaming as his mother knelt behind him. "Why are you out here so late? You should have been in bed hours ago."

Obi-Wan leaned back into his mother's gentle embrace, a sleepy smile creeping to his lips. "I wanted to see the stars," he answered, as he had always answered. In her arms he felt safe, and warm, and loved.

For several minutes, the two sat, rocking gently, flickering starlight shining in their eyes as the lighted nightscape above turned inexorably towards dawn.

"Someday I will be part of those stars, Mother," Obi-Wan murmured drowsily. "I will know them and they will know me."

"You would leave Tempen and all who love you?"

"… he is waiting for me…" he replied in a sleepy whisper.

"Who is waiting for you?" his mother asked softly, but Obi-Wan did not answer, for he was traveling the field of darkness upon a cloud of stardust, gripping the tail of a comet as it tugged him away from his home.

*~*~*

_Ten years later._

"Master, the pilot says we will be landing at Tempen Prime shortly." Siri Tachi, senior padawan to Master Qui-Gon Jinn, handed over a datapad with the most current information. "Our escort will be at the landing pad."

Qui-Gon glanced at the datapad. "Thank you, Padawan. I'm rather looking forward to this trip."

"It's about time we had a pleasant mission, Master," Siri replied, settling into the seat beside Qui-Gon. "We've seen far too much anger and hate lately."

"I agree." Qui-Gon patted her hand. "You will be a fine knight soon, Siri."

He'd taught her for ten years. Ten years of watching her work through tricky situations with talent, grace, and physical strength when necessary had translated into a thorough education on her part, not to mention adding to the growing silver in his hair on his part.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you about Harmon, Siri. Did you leave on good terms?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Oh…you could say that," Siri replied saucily, her wicked grin precluding any forthcoming details.

"He's a good man. He'll do well in the Senate. I was a bit surprised at your attraction to him—usually you go for the younger men around."

Siri waved a hand. "I know. But he was so charismatic that he seemed ageless—and he definitely had the benefit of experience," she said slyly, and Qui-Gon laughed at her coyness.

"We've arrived, Master Jinn," their pilot informed them over the comm. Together they stood, straightening their tunics and shaking out their robes as the ship settled on the landing pad at the Palace of Tempen. Qui-Gon Jinn preceded his padawan out the hatch to the young man awaiting them there.

It was mid-morning on the planet, and the golden springtime sun was climbing high. The sky had a faintly purple cast to it, a quirk of the atmosphere, and the effect was breathtakingly beautiful. The white stone palace gleamed beneath the warm light, with many minarets and glittering windows.

But the reflection that drew Qui-Gon was not in those brilliant windows, but rather in the friendly eyes of the handsome young man who stepped forward to greet them, extending slightly trembling fists, knuckles up in Tempen standard greeting. "Welcome to Tempen City," he said, his voice smooth and sweet, with an accent that highlighted the spoken word more intriguingly than Qui-Gon had ever heard, and those eyes, warm and inviting, a lavender-gray in the sunlight. "I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, the King's First Assistant. We are pleased to have you join us, Master Jinn."

"We are honored by your welcome, Sir Kenobi." Qui-Gon offered his own fists and the two gently met hands, a small quiver running through Qui-Gon when the warmth of the other touched him. After a prolonged moment, he stepped back and introduced Siri, and the greeting was extended to her as well.

"And your spouses? Are they still aboard your ship?" Obi-Wan asked, looking up the ramp for more visitors, but the hatch was closed and the ship preparing to leave.

Startled, the two Jedi glanced at each other in confusion. "No," Qui-Gon replied. "Only ourselves."

"Oh,'" said Obi-Wan, surprised by this information. "Are you a wedded couple then? We had arranged for separate rooms, but we can change that if necessary…?"

"No—she is my student." Qui-Gon knew better than to look at Siri as memories of a girlhood crush on her master surfaced with the questioning. He could feel her amusement tinkle over their bond, though. "We have no spouses at present, Sir Kenobi."

"Oh," repeated Obi-Wan, clearly uncomfortable with his misstep. "Then I look forward to learning more about your customs, as they seem to differ greatly from ours. Your cultural information spoke mainly about the Jedi as defenders of the peace, and not much about interpersonal relationships. My apologies for the misunderstanding." Qui-Gon waved off his plea with a smile, that Obi-Wan gratefully returned. "Please follow me, and I will show you to your—individual—quarters. King Lorien has requested that you join him for the midday meal in two hours. I trust that will be enough time to unpack your things?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon nodded. "More than enough."

"In that case, perhaps a quick tour of the palace and grounds before lunching?"

Qui-Gon tore his gaze away from the boy's brilliant smile to glance at Siri, who was watching young Kenobi with undisguised interest. Kenobi appeared oblivious to her attraction, however. If Qui-Gon recalled the planetary sociology information correctly, Obi-Wan was sure to have been married for several years at his age, which Qui-Gon guessed to be nineteen or twenty, and likely explained why the boy had expected spouses to accompany them. He certainly would not be very accepting of any advances Siri might make on him.

Or Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon mentally shook himself and accepted the offer with the grace that years of diplomatic experience had infused in him.

With a nod, Sir Kenobi turned and led them to their quarters, affording them both an unintentionally enticing view of his shoulder length hair brushing his tunic, and the graceful way the man walked; gentle swinging of the arms, a casual kick of the feet. A swagger without arrogance, a simple, masculine beauty that fed Qui-Gon's yearning imagination and underscored his loneliness. Qui-Gon once more squashed his thoughts before they bled through the training bond to Siri, although he knew Siri had eyes in her own head, and very much knew how to use them.

Qui-Gon sent a warning glance at her and while surprised at the look, she obediently averted her eyes to the palace walls, and Qui-Gon berated himself for his own wholly inappropriate reactions.

The three were soon strolling through a magnificent garden, with flowering trees shading semi-private alcoves and trailing vines crawling along the garden walls, dripping with color and scent. Flower bushes exploding in crimsons and golds bordered the paths, while white fountains capturing the lavender sky in their pools sang their trickling, watery songs. Young and old couples wandered the paths, some arm in arm, some stopping to enjoy a fountain, their arms around each other the way lovers do.

Siri bent to partake of a fat, yellow bloom. "I don't believe I've ever smelled flowers with such beautiful scents," she sighed, stroking the flower with her fingertip.

Obi-Wan gallantly plucked the rose from its bush. "For you, then. To brighten your room."

Siri colored faintly as she took the bloom from the young man, their fingers brushing in the exchange. "Mind the thorns," he warned her. "Most flowers on Tempen Prime have them."

"Does your wife enjoy these flowers, too, Sir Kenobi?" she asked, annoying Qui-Gon by ignoring his mental push. Always the flirt, but now was not the time.

Obi-Wan offered her a tight, polite smile. "I am not married as yet, Padawan Tachi," he answered.

"Oh! Aren't you a little—old—then, in your culture? To not be married, I mean," Siri wondered.

After a brief pause in which Qui-Gon detected a hint of reluctance and wariness, Obi-Wan inclined his head in agreement. "I am. I have been extremely busy in my studies and then I was offered the position of the King's assistant for the negotiations."

"Do you have a girlfriend, then?" Siri asked, burying her nose once more into the lush petals of the rose.

"No." A faint blush of red crept onto his face at his admission.

Qui-Gon laid a restraining hand on his padawan's arm as a warning to prevent more questions, his irritation with her rising sharply. "Sir Kenobi, what are you studying when you are not King's First?" Qui-Gon asked in an attempt to save the young man from further embarrassment at the hands of his all-too-attentive apprentice.

Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon, relief washing the extra color away. "I am an astronomer."

His eyes were alight with passion for his subject, and Qui-Gon became entranced, curious to know more of Sir Kenobi's passions. "Please, go on."

"I also want to know more about other worlds, and their cultures. I did not realize that Jedi traveled in unmated opposite sex pairs. That is not something that is allowed in Tempen society."

"One of many things you will discover about other cultures is how very similar they can be, even as they seem so different from your own," Qui-Gon replied. "But it is refreshing to find someone so interested in actual astronomy."

Obi-Wan radiated with enthusiasm as he turned his face to the sky, as if to seek out the stars he studied. "The study of the planets and stars beyond us has been most enlightening—and the main reason why I was asked to be King's First. King Lorian said he wanted someone who knew the galaxy well." Faint color painted his cheeks as he realized he may have been boasting.

"I'm sure he's made a fine choice," Qui-Gon replied formally, unexpectedly charmed by the blush, and aware that Siri had not missed it, either.

The three stood in a slightly tense silence for a few moments until Obi-Wan checked his chronometer. "This way, please. The King is expecting us."

As Obi-Wan led them out of the garden, Qui-Gon held Siri back for a moment. "Siri, I'm surprised at your behavior. The mission has barely begun and already you are flirting with the King's First!"

Shock dawned on Siri's face. "Master, I—"

"Don't even try to argue with me, Siri. I won't have it. This is your final mission as a padawan, and if you want to keep it as your final mission you'd best mind yourself. I haven't submitted your application as yet."

Qui-Gon stalked away to catch up with Obi-Wan, flowers bobbing in the windy wake of his cloak, leaving Siri staring open-mouthed after him.

*~*~*

Once Qui-Gon and an unusually quiet Siri were introduced properly to King Lorian and settled at the table, Obi-Wan excused himself to check on the preparations in the kitchen, leaving the King and Qui-Gon chatting happily.

He ducked through the busy kitchen to a private alcove where he slumped against the tiled wall, head tipped back and eyes closed.

Damn. Siri Tachi had been flirting with him, and once again, he had no response to an attractive girl. She was beautiful, smart, self-assured, and a Jedi padawan. His mother would be thrilled to think that this lovely, mature and responsible woman could possibly be interested in her son, even if she was rather old to not be married herself, yet Obi-Wan still felt nothing in return. Nothing.

But Qui-Gon Jinn. The moment the man had stepped off that ship, Obi-Wan had been drawn to him. His accent when he spoke, the way his regal body shifted beneath his cloak as he walked. The brilliant color of his eyes, the subtle swing of his hair against his shoulders, the way his lips moved when he spoke, lined by a short beard that only enhanced his dignified stance.

The impressive size and warmth of the man's hands when they met his own.

He ran a nervous hand over his face, wiping away a sudden cold sweat. Qui-Gon was a man, and quite a bit older, at that. All the emotions and urges he'd expected to feel someday for a girl, the attraction that had been described to him, that he'd seen portrayed amongst his friends, had all tumbled into him that moment on the landing pad. The pounding heart, the difficulty breathing, the shaking hands. I wonder if he noticed the trembling, he thought to himself.

He was still trembling.

For a man.

Suddenly, memories of his dreams flooded him, fantasies that began with one or two young male friends, paying him the attention they normally gave to the young girls. He'd never thought much of it given he'd spent more time in school and at play with his male friends, but as he grew older their familiarities soon faded to be replaced by a less raucous, but faceless, figure.  Gentle hands, lips touching his skin, long hair skimming his cheeks as his lover bent to kiss him. Never a face, always anonymous and Obi-Wan had never thought to question the possibility that the unseen body was not that of a woman's.

Qui-Gon.

This is insane, he thought wildly to himself. He turned to press his forehead against the cool tiles and pulled in a few deep breaths, willing himself to a calmer state even as the business in the kitchen continued to pulse frenetically around him.

Men were not attracted to other men, not in that way. He had never seen it, never heard of it, and it certainly wasn't the way nature worked. There were two sexes for a reason—to procreate. The seed of the male implanted in the female and magically, a new person. Love and affection didn't even have to be involved, but among Tempenians, it usually was.

What he was feeling was incredibly wrong. He must be mistaken. Maybe it was just the excitement of meeting true off-worlders, someone from outside their system. Yes, that was it. It was just excitement. He tried to tune out the banging of pots and pans, urging his pulse to slow.

Then why didn't Siri affect him this way?

He pressed both palms flat against the wall, as if to absorb its solidity and serenity, before he stepped back into the kitchen, deftly avoiding scurrying cooks and servers to pour himself a glass of water. A kitchen aide unknowingly bumped him as she scurried past. He narrowly avoided dropping the glass after splashing most of the cold liquid on his shirt. Frustrated, he set the emptied glass down sharply on the counter as he stared out the window at the lavender sky, small white clouds passing serenely by. Calm down, Obi-Wan! he told himself. You have a job to do. Go do it before you embarrass yourself and your King.

*~*~*

Siri sat in perfect padawan form, straight back, hands folded in her lap, but Qui-Gon was aware of her scrutiny as he talked easily with King Lorian about the benefits Tempen would enjoy as a member of the Republic. Tempen was a beautiful planet and an ideal vacation or retreat paradise.

"I am very pleased and excited to get this membership to the Republic finalized," King Lorian stated. "Discovering new worlds, seeing what they have to offer. It's nearly unbelievable. Yet, here you are, having traveled from another system. I thank you for coming here, both of you," Lorian added, nodding at Siri, who inclined her head respectfully.

"Majesty, lunch is served. Master Jinn, Padawan Tachi, please follow me," announced Obi-Wan as he returned, leading from the kitchen several white-dressed servers, each bearing a different dish. Vegetables, fresh and cooked, various fruits, and steaming, aromatic meat pies, along with several bottles of the best Tempenian wines.

Tempting though it was, the food appeared to hold no interest for Siri as her attention was fully upon the smartly dressed young man. He had changed his clothing to a rich, dark green tunic with a sheen that shifted tones in the light, worn over tight, black pants. A soft leather belt of a muted brown helped hold the wrap of the tunic closed around his slender waist. His auburn hair lay rich against the green-clad shoulders and his eyes had changed from gray to instead reflect the emerald of his clothing.

Qui-Gon straightened in his chair, himself struck by the Obi-Wan's simple beauty. A glance at his padawan confirmed that her reaction to the handsome man was what he thought it would be, but he was relieved to note that she did not engage in any of her earlier flirting behavior in the presence of the King.

"Obi-Wan!" the King exclaimed. "Since when did you change for lunch?" he asked. "Is that the shirt Suzzette had made for you? You know how much she likes the look of you in green."

"Since I managed to spill water on myself in the kitchen," he answered self-deprecatingly. "And yes, this is the one the Queen made." He smiled shyly at Siri and Qui-Gon as he pulled out his chair and seated himself to the right of the King, directly across from Qui-Gon at the King's left. Siri, seated next to Qui-Gon, offered a small smile of her own before taking some vegetables.

"I imagine that several of these dishes will be new to you, but I do hope you will give them a try. I think you will find them to be extremely enjoyable," Obi-Wan said.

"I'm sure we will, Sir Kenobi," Qui-Gon answered. "It is one of the more pleasurable aspects of visiting other worlds, being able to taste and try new foods. I rank it right up there with meeting new people. You never know who may end up being a very important friend, or what food will be a newfound treat." He raised his glass in a small toast to both the King and his First, but Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon's eyes only briefly, leaving Qui-Gon with a lonely sense of rejection.

After the dishes had been cleared and the wine mostly drunk, King Lorian decided to remove himself and Qui-Gon to the King's study.

"Obi-Wan, why don't you show Padawan Tachi a bit more of the palace while Qui-Gon and I test out some of the new cigars sent in from Rygallia?" He turned to Qui-Gon. "If that's all right with you, of course. I am afraid I've just assumed that the young lady wouldn't be interested in smelly, burning leaves," he said, laughing as Siri winced and nodded her agreement. "I thought not. Master Jinn, I am quite sure Obi-Wan will not make any untoward advances, but do you require a chaperone for the two of them? We do that for traveling usually, but as you are strangers here, I want to be sure your needs are met."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "No, Your Majesty, Siri is quite capable of taking care of herself, and understands the expectations made of her. Siri, you may go with Sir Kenobi. I'll meet you at suppertime if we don't catch up with you before then."

"Yes, Master," she responded respectfully. Standing, she bowed first to the King, then to her master, before taking Obi-Wan's offered arm. She smiled shyly at him, and he returned it in kind.

"They make a nice couple, don't you think?" the King quietly asked Qui-Gon as the two young people left the table.

For once I'd like to be a padawan again, Qui-Gon thought to himself. "Yes, they do," he answered politely, following the blonde and russet heads as they vanished into the recesses of the palace.

*~*~*

Shafts of sunlight punctuated the walls of the Great Hall at regular intervals through high, narrow windows, striking just above several large portraits, illuminating the room with a light violet cast.

"I feel like all these dead people are staring at me," Siri said to Obi-Wan, who had paused before a rendering of a younger man in full regalia, with blue eyes and a laughing face, standing behind a pretty woman in a fancy frock, seated in a prim, delicate chair. "Do you feel that way? Does it bother you?"

"No," he answered, trying to ignore the gentle, but ultimately uncomfortable pressure of her hand on his arm. "For me, they're just history. This was King Justarin and his wife Corinne," he offered, gesturing at the painting. "He became King when he was nineteen, and she was eighteen. To ascend to the throne that young is rather rare, and hasn't happened in the last two hundred years or so. He was a good King, though; his father taught him well. He and Corinne were the ones who first encouraged developing communication methods between the other planets in our system. Because Tempen was the first planet to do so, the system was named for us and we became Tempen Prime."

Siri nodded thoughtfully. "Sir Kenobi—" she stopped when he lightly gripped her hand, clinging to the crook of his arm.

Obi-Wan gave her a polite smile. "Please, feel free to call me Obi-Wan. You needn't use my title when we aren't in the presence of the King."

"All right," she laughed. "Obi-Wan, I wanted to ask you more about the bonding practices of your people. Since it's very different from how Jedi, and really, most of the galaxy, conduct relationships, I was hoping you could tell me more."

Ah. If he wasn't sure before, it seemed fairly clear now that Siri was interested in him. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to shift away from her touch, and answered her hesitantly. This visit was for sharing information, after all. "All right. Since you seem uncomfortable here, why don't we go back through the gardens while we talk?"

They walked through the afternoon sunlight, the garden nearly empty of visitors. Obi-Wan noted that those who remained followed Siri and himself with speculative eyes that silently spoke of a hopeful match before heads were brought close together to murmur about the lovely off-worlder and the oddly single young man, walking together unescorted.

Siri chose for them to sit on a small bench against the far wall, nearly hidden by green, twisting vines and small purple flowers.  For a moment they turned their faces up to the warmth of the lowering sun, listening to the singing buzz of insects and the soft flutter of bird wings. A lone woman moved through the far end of the garden, collecting various blooms in the large basket over her arm.

"Obi-Wan?"

He turned to her, startled out of his observations. "Yes?"

"You were going to tell me about…"

"Oh, yes. Of course." Obi-Wan settled his gaze on the fountain bubbling in the center of the garden, rather than on the lovely young Jedi woman beside him. "Well, we hold the belief that the earlier in life responsibility is learned, the more productive an adult one will be."

"I can understand that. We train from childhood on to become Jedi."

"But apparently you do not enter into romantic or bonded relationships as young as we do."

Siri shook her head. "No. We are not allowed to date until we are eighteen, and may not bond—or marry, as you call it—until we have either been awarded our rank as a Jedi Knight, or cease being a padawan learner in some way."

"So not all padawans become knights?" Obi-Wan asked, deftly changing the subject away from marriage.

Siri shook her head. "Most do, but sometimes they don't. They may be injured too badly to work effectively in the field, or sometimes they fall in love, and choose to be with their lover instead of waiting until knighthood." She stopped to flash a proud smile at him. "Most padawans become knights anywhere from age twenty-three to twenty-five. I've just turned twenty-three, and Master Qui-Gon is recommending me for my Trials after this mission."

She stopped and tilted her head invitingly at Obi-Wan, poking his arm with a gently accusing finger. "And somehow you managed to get me talking about Jedi practices. Now, tell me more about the Tempenians."

Obi-Wan shook his head in vague disbelief. "That you wait so long to bond seems detrimental to encouraging a strong, lasting relationship. Here, once children turn thirteen years old and their bodies start to mature, they begin to attend parties where they are encouraged to meet potential partners. We have the large gatherings about six times a year and the youngsters meet and dance and get to know each other. As they grow older, they experiment a bit with kissing and such, and usually by age sixteen or so, they've made a choice and commitment and they marry. Often the weddings are group affairs."

Siri was watching him intently, a small frown on her face. "Then why haven't you married?" she asked.

Obi-Wan flushed and refocused on the woman at the end of the garden. "Ah, well, in my generation there are slightly fewer girls than boys on Tempen Prime, and in or near Tempen City, and I guess I just never found the right match." He cleared his throat nervously, images from his dreams flashing in his mind, and he sought to change the conversation away from his lack of a love life. "Why is it that the Jedi take so long to bond?"

"It's not really that long in comparison with other cultures, but primarily because of training," Siri said simply.

"Your responsibility level is much higher than ours," Obi-Wan said, but his mind pondered the question: Why hadn't Master Jinn bonded yet? Surely a man of his age and status would have found an appropriate wife and had children by now.

"Responsibility is all in the context, I think. See this scar?" She offered her hand and he held it gently to examine the remnant of an old injury on her wrist. "I was grabbing a child out of the way of a falling wall. As a Jedi, others always come before me," she explained. "We are trained almost from the moment we are born to defend those weaker than us, and promote peace. You have a different type of responsibility, to your family, your society, and to your King."

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding, becoming increasingly aware of the warmth of her hand in his.

"So, did you go to those parties and play the kissing games?" she asked softly, leaning slightly nearer to him.

Obi-Wan nervously tried to drop her hand, but she turned her palm over to grasp his. "Y-yes. A bit. It's been a long time. I never cared for—" He became urgently aware of Siri's body coming closer to his and he tried to back gracefully away, but the lover's bench was built narrowly for a reason and Siri took full advantage of it.

She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, her free hand on his shoulder. "I really like you, Obi-Wan. I would like to get to know you better, once the negotiations are finished, of course."

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, trying not to lose his composure while searching his mind for something appropriate to say in response. He had no desire to insult her, but he had no desire for her, either.

Pulling back, Siri gazed sympathetically at him. "Don't be nervous," she said, squeezing his hand.

"I'm—fine…" he stuttered, then jumped when he heard a stern voice.

"Please remove yourself to our quarters, Padawan."

Siri released Obi-Wan and rose, bewildered.

"But, Master—"

"Now." The cold steel in his voice brooked no argument, and certainly not one in public.

"Yes, Master." Siri ducked her head briefly at Obi-Wan in farewell, a deep flush coloring her cheeks as she walked out of the garden to their rooms, her stance stiff and formal.

 

 

 

As Obi-Wan tried to calm his racing heart and smooth his clothing, Qui-Gon reached a hand out to help him stand. "I apologize for her behavior. It was inappropriate and it will not happen again, Sir Kenobi."

Obi-Wan's own hand felt oddly small within Qui-Gon's massive grip. Such a large hand he had, warm and strong. He had a sudden recollection of the feel of Siri's smaller, softer hand in his and briefly imagined Qui-Gon's hands touching him the way Siri seemed to want to.

"Master Jinn, were we truly doing something wrong?" he asked, wondering at Jinn's reaction to seeing Siri kiss him. Surely Siri, with all her self assurance and nearing independence, had pursued other men on other planets.

Qui-Gon didn't give an immediate response as he looked over Obi-Wan's head at the flora twining across the wall.

"She does not need this type of distraction this close to her Trials when negotiations are underway," he finally said.

"Oh." Obi-Wan rubbed his palms together nervously while taking the opportunity to unobtrusively watch the Jedi as he cooled his temper. The slight breeze blew brown and silvering strands back from his shoulders. His eyes were still sparking, the blue turned hard and cold, a change from the softer shade when he had been laughing with the King.

In the slight profile his nose stood starkly against the light sky, broken yet proud. A warrior's face, lined with worry and work and the occasional laughter.

And loneliness. Ah, how Obi-Wan could recognize loneliness.

Qui-Gon suddenly turned towards him, the direct attention stirring an odd yearning in Obi-Wan. "Once the negotiations are finished, she is free to court, should you wish it, of course."

"Th-thank you," Obi-Wan murmured, wishing there was a polite way to say, no, thank you, I'd rather not. "I should see to the King. Shall I escort you to your rooms?"

Their eyes met and held. Something in the way Master Jinn looked at him set Obi-Wan off-balance. A glimmer of—something. Hunger? Desire? Time froze momentarily for Obi-Wan, aware only of an electric tingling spreading throughout his body. He jolted back to life, rapidly becoming confused by his reactions to this man.

"I think I can find my way. Thank you, Sir Kenobi." Qui-Gon bowed stiffly and walked quickly away. He nodded to the florist as he passed her. With one glance back at Obi-Wan, he turned the corner and vanished.

Obi-Wan sat back down suddenly on the bench, his knees giving way beneath him, oblivious to the curious gaze from across the garden. "Oh, Herath," he breathed. "What are you doing to me?"

*~*~*

"Do you want to explain yourself, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked, uncharacteristically interrupting his padawan's meditation on her mat in the center of the floor.

She opened her eyes, spiraling up quickly. "I don't believe I was doing anything wrong, Master," she replied, her voice cool but her eyes snapping. "Obi-Wan—"

"—is the King's First!" Qui-Gon interrupted. "We don't know what Sir Kenobi may or may not choose to tell him! What if he relates your little game in the garden? Perhaps it would upset the King that a representative of the Republic would be so bold in his home! Perhaps he decides he would rather not be part of a common group of planetary systems that would be so rude and forward! Perhaps—!"

"Master, I don't understand," Siri interjected. "Never, ever, have you reacted like this to my flirtations with men. Remember Cristo on Saron?  Same type of mission and you were not disturbed in the least by our relationship. Obi-Wan is not part of the negotiation team, and we were not in negotiations. Master, this planet's society lives for matchmaking. Yes, I am interested, and I told him so. If he were to tell the King about our quite innocent dalliance in the garden, the King would probably put off the negotiations in order to begin bonding arrangements! I know I'm not quite ready for that, and I doubt Obi-Wan is, either!"

"Padawan, that is exactly my point. We are here to establish this planet's acceptance into the Republic, and your interest in Sir Kenobi may well interfere, don't you think? Whose interests are you here to serve—the Republic's, or your own?"

Siri stood straighter, smoothing her face into placidity. "I'm here to serve the Republic, Master."

"And as far as best interests are concerned, what about Sir Kenobi's? You've already learned, from the man himself, that he is a bit of a social misfit, not having a spouse at his age. Are you truly telling me that all at once, you're ready to settle down with a partner? Otherwise, I would advise you to think twice about what you may be doing to him, leading him on only to leave him once our job here is done."

Siri's demeanor remained calm, but her words were biting.

"I'm thinking that perhaps you are attracted to him, Master, and it bothers you that I am, too. Are you?"

Qui-Gon chose to ignore the question. Siri's insight was hitting far too close to the mark for his comfort, and he needed to put a stop to it—now. "You will stay away from him beyond official and polite capacity until the negotiations are complete. That is my final word."

Siri stared at him, shaking, before silently turning on her heel and stalking to her room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Qui-Gon threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Sith!"

She was right.

He stalked to the wide window of their quarters, which framed a vast view of the surrounding countryside. Hills undulated across the land, gray and green with fluff-bushes and waving grasses.

Green and gray, like the pair of eyes that had shyly questioned him in the garden. He had been grateful for his cloak to help mask the sudden arousal he had experienced when he took Obi-Wan's hand.

Obi-Wan. Why? Why now, when Siri wants you, too?

He smacked the window frame with his fist before leaning in and rubbing his forehead against his knuckles. He remained there until the sun set behind the hills, seemingly setting the fluff-bushes on fire, burning the green grasses away into the darkness.

*~*~*

An hour past sunset, there was a knock at the door. Qui-Gon unfolded himself from the sofa where he had been brooding. Siri had not come back out of her room.

Qui-Gon opened the door to find Obi-Wan, now dressed in deep russet and brown, ready to escort them to supper.

"Unless you would prefer to eat here tonight?" Obi-Wan offered, apparently noting the tension still present on Qui-Gon's face. Siri opened her door and stepped out, giving a nervous Obi-Wan a small smile but not coming forward to greet him.

"No, the King is expecting us, and we shall be there. Padawan?"

"Yes, Master," she answered dutifully, maintaining a perfect padawan expression on her face as she stepped into her place behind him.

Obi-Wan nodded. "Very well. This way, please."

He led the way back down the winding halls, the Jedi Master and his padawan following behind him. Qui-Gon searched for something to say, hating that his behavior had actually caused his outgoing padawan to hold her normally chatty tongue.

"There will be a few others dining with us tonight," Obi-Wan said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Some of our leading citizens have been invited, as well as my parents. My mother creates beautiful flower arrangements and has provided several for the dining room."

They entered a larger and more ornate dining area than where they had eaten lunch. Red silk fabric with gold markings adorned the walls, and a massive, glossy brown table centered the room, set with thin, white dishes, gold flatware, and crystal wine goblets. High backed, plush upholstered chairs surrounded the table, and a large stone fireplace was set in a far wall with a cheery fire crackling within. To add to the firelight, candles had been placed on seemingly random surfaces and inside small alcoves in the walls, the red and white tapers emitting a soft light onto the table and into the room. White flowers adorned the center of the table and stood in tall stands on either side of the four windows overlooking the gardens from which they came.

"Oh!" Siri breathed, the beauty of the room pulling her from her silence. "It's lovely!"

"Thank you, my dear!" King Lorian offered her his arm and escorted her to her seat. "I do love this dining room, and I love having a reason to use it." He turned to Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, still standing in the entryway. "Come, come, sit, my friend, and I shall introduce you to my wife and to our other companions this evening. Obi-Wan, would you be so kind as to fetch the wine?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," Obi-Wan bowed and walked behind the King's chair to fetch the decanter from a small ornate table. Qui-Gon covertly admired at how he expertly pulled the cork and set the bottle near the King's table setting to allow it to breathe, confident in his duties, no longer the ruffled young man he had abandoned at the lover's bench.

The King led Siri and Qui-Gon to the foot of the table where a lovely, matronly woman was smiling brightly, pleased and excited to meet the Jedi. "My love, may I present Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his apprentice, Padawan Siri Tachi. Master Jinn, may I present my wife, Queen Suzzette."

"A pleasure to meet you both. You two are betrothed, yes?" the Queen asked, and then blushed when Qui-Gon once more gently revealed that theirs was a teacher and student relationship. Once apologies were made and waved off, the King led them around the table and to greet the rest of the guests.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lord Kenobi. And your flowers are lovely, Lady Kenobi," Siri said, shaking the woman's hand as she was introduced. "Your son has been most kind to us."

"And we are most proud of him," Minera Kenobi replied before smiling warmly at her son. She looked between him and the lovely young lady before her, as if weighing the possibilities. Qui-Gon immediately recognized her as the florist from the garden, and wondered exactly how much she had seen or heard. If she'd seen Siri and Obi-Wan together…

Once everyone was seated, Obi-Wan took up the bottle and poured. As Qui-Gon tasted from his goblet he caught a quick look from Obi-Wan. He also noted that the boy had not looked at Siri; had, in fact, practically ignored her sitting next to her master. Obi-Wan must still be flustered from their earlier encounter and then the scene Qui-Gon had made afterwards.

The rest of the guests engaged themselves in eating their supper, Siri chatting quite easily with Lady Kenobi. Qui-Gon recognized the modus operandi. Get in the mother's good graces, get that much closer to her son. He unobtrusively focused his attention on Obi-Wan, who was eating little and drinking much, and found himself wishing he were seated closer so he could speak with him, if only to hear his voice close in his ear.

*~*~*

After supper the guests gathered around the fire. Wine continued to flow and the conversation wound about them, ranging from Jedi missions to the source of the wax for the candles burning down in their sconces.

Obi-Wan had eaten little. His stomach was fluttering and he gulped his wine nearly every time Qui-Gon met his eyes.  He had never been a regular drinker and was beginning to feel dizzy from the effects of the alcohol, among other curious bodily reactions while in the presence of the handsome Jedi master.

Lady Minera wended her way around the other guests and from behind captured her son's arm and led him casually off to a window to gaze upon the lighted garden below.

"Padawan Tachi is quite the lovely young woman, isn't she, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Mother, she is," he agreed obligingly, feeling overly warm from the wine and the fire. He was in no mood to discuss Siri at this moment but unless the King called for him, he was effectively trapped, caught in her surprise attack.

"I saw you with her out in the garden this afternoon," his mother said conspiratorially, leaning in a bit closer to his ear. "It looked as if you two were rather close."

Obi-Wan took another gulp of wine. "I didn't realize that was you there today," he said, inwardly horrified at having been observed by his mother, and particularly with the way Master Jinn had reacted to the scene.

"Perhaps you should ask her over to our house for supper one evening while she's here," she suggested, and Obi-Wan groaned inwardly. Could she not let it rest? No, of course not. He was an embarrassment to her, this handsome, unmarried son, and him the King's First!

"Perhaps, Mother, but I'm sure her time will be occupied by the negotiations and her duties to her master," he replied in a bid to put her off the idea.

"Oh, now, Obi-Wan, you ask her. I'm sure Master Jinn can spare her for a couple of hours." She patted his arm indulgently before kissing him on the cheek. "Let's go find your father; I'm quite ready to turn in." She curled her arm around her son's and together they circled the room until they found Lord Van Kenobi speaking with Master Jinn. Uncomfortable enough already, Obi-Wan felt a pang of heartache at being so close to Qui-Gon with his mother's insistent invitation for Siri still buzzing in his ears.

Qui-Gon took Lady Kenobi's hand in greeting, and she dropped a small curtsey to him.

"Master Jinn, may I ask a question on behalf of my son?" Obi-Wan started and looked to Master Jinn, silently pleading him to refuse her. Master Jinn, however, politely turned his full attention on the woman before him.

"Certainly. How can I help you?"

Lady Kenobi smiled winningly at him, a hint of flirtatiousness in her lowered eyes. "Would you be able to spare your apprentice for a few hours one day this week? Obi-Wan and I, and his father, of course, would like to invite her to a meal at the Kenobi home, but he was concerned that she would not have the free time."

Obi-Wan's mouth dropped open in shock that his mother would be so forward, but Master Jinn seemed to take it all in stride.

"I'm sure we'll find a time that will work. May we let you know tomorrow?"

"That would be fine. Thank you so much, Master Jinn. Darling," she said, turning to her husband, "I believe we should go. It's been a long evening and that delicious wine has gone to my head a bit! I fear I may have had too much. Good night Master Jinn, Obi-Wan," she said, kissing her son's cheek, just tipsy enough to not seem to notice that Obi-Wan had not returned the kiss. She swept from the room on Lord Kenobi's arm, leaving a slightly off-balance Obi-Wan to follow Qui-Gon back to King Lorian's side.

Damn her, Obi-Wan thought. I do not want Siri, for dinner or anything else. This is going too far, too fast, and I can't seem to do a damn thing to stop it. His eyes were drawn to the long brown locks before him, swinging gently against the fabric of Qui-Gon's tunic. They looked so soft and so thick that Obi-Wan wanted nothing more at that moment than to touch that hair and find out for himself. He clenched his hands into fists instead. Gods, he was drunk, carrying on like a fool for someone he could never have. And a man, at that. There must be something wrong with me, he thought. Very, very wrong.

Eventually, after more than an hour, the rest of the guests offered their farewells, but not before Obi-Wan was holding himself up against the back of the King's seat with one hand, trying to look as if he were merely interested in the conversation. He had avoided Siri as best he could all night, and it was not without a little relief that he heard Siri request from her master permission to retire.

"Is it that late?" said the King. "We've been having such wonderful conversations. Master Jinn, are you wishing to retire as well?"

"Actually, I'm quite comfortable here if you are, Your Majesty," Qui-Gon replied. He inclined his head permissively towards her. "Siri, you may go."

"Obi-Wan, my lad, you may go to bed if you wish, as well. You are looking rather ill. Are you all right?" The King turned towards his First with concern, while Queen Suzzette put a caring hand on Obi-Wan's forehead.

Obi-Wan carefully nodded. "I will be fine, Your Majesties. Siri, may I escort you to your rooms?" he asked, offering his arm to her once again, courtesy winning out over his discomfort. Besides, he needed the help. "Good night," he nodded to the King and Qui-Gon, barely meeting the master's eyes, before turning a crooked smile on Siri. "I fear you may be guiding me on this jaunt," he whispered grimly.

"I think I can handle you," she joked, moving her arm to support his shoulders as he weaved slightly. He hoped Qui-Gon wouldn't be unduly upset by her attention to him.

"Are you feeling any better?" Siri asked Obi-Wan, stopping him in the gardens for some fresh air.

Obi-Wan looked as if he were about to assure her he was fine, but he relented at her worried face. "Not really. The wine and the fire smoke—it was getting to be a bit much," he admitted. He glanced at her warily—was she going to try to kiss him again? He didn't think he would have the strength to fight her off in his current state.

"It was bothering me too, but that you were looking so unwell bothered me more. Which way do we go?"

He gestured towards his room, hoping Siri wouldn't expect to stay.

"I'm sorry for being so forward earlier today," Siri apologized, and Obi-Wan stiffened slightly, as if she'd read his thoughts. "I think my master is anxious to make sure these negotiations go well—this is meant to be his last official mission. He's never reacted like that to any romantic liaisons of mine before and I hope I didn't embarrass you in front of him." She glanced at Obi-Wan momentarily, as if trying to gauge his response.

Obi-Wan fumbled for words. "Uh—well, I was, a bit, but it's all right. He explained to me his reasons, and I completely understand," he said, trying to sound diplomatic. "You've had such encounters elsewhere?"

"Sometimes it's not me making the advances," she laughed. "There was this one time, on Cotteral, where not one, but two young ladies attempted to entice me to their beds. Beautiful as they were, I had my eye on the older brother of one of them. I think those girls found each other in the end, if I recall correctly. I wonder if they are still together," she mused, oblivious to Obi-Wan's wide and shocked eyes.

"Two girls—together? But—that's not the way it's meant to be—or is it on that planet?"

Siri grinned at him. "Don't you have same-sex couples here in the Tempen system? They are everywhere in the galaxy."

Obi-Wan shook his head, relieved that they were nearly to his room, but finding himself avidly curious. "I've never heard of it here," he replied, suddenly chilled as a thought struck him. By the gods, how could he ever explain this unnatural attraction to Qui-Gon? Would his family be able to understand, or even try to begin?

"Your mother seems rather nice," Siri mentioned.

He grimaced, trying to hide it in a smile. "She tries." He pointed to indicate his door before asking, "Are people who are attracted to the same sex really that common?"

"I bet Tempen has those who are homosexual but are reluctant to say so, given your culture," she said. "I have been places where the populace is very homophobic. Fey couples have to hide their true identities within their society's morals and mores in order to fit in."

"And you? What do you think of them, then?" he asked warily, "the ones who are 'homosexual'?"

Siri turned the knob to his door and it opened to a tidy and spare room. She turned to face him. "I think that whomever one loves is the one that they love. Gender really doesn't have anything to do with it. It's strictly a matter of the heart. There are even those who enjoy being with both sexes, too." She grinned at his slack-jawed reaction. "Will you be all right here?" she asked, guiding him in.

Obi-Wan nodded uncertainly as he fumbled with his belt, conscious of Siri's quick glance over his few possessions, wondering what conclusions she drew from them. Siri knelt before him, gently pushing his hands aside as she deftly worked the catch. He stared down at her, her head before his sex, then squeezed his eyes tightly shut. Not her, he thought. I don't want her. Please, Siri, don't touch me.

He felt a kiss on his cheek. His eyes flew open and Siri was smiling gently at him.

"Sit down before you fall down." She pushed him carefully backwards until he sat on the edge of his bed, his eyes never leaving her face, watching her. Flushing slightly, she knelt once more to remove his boots, then loosened his tunic. He grabbed her wrist as she moved to open it.

"I can do it from here," he said distantly. "Thank you for your assistance."

She rose and laid one cool hand on his cheek. "You're welcome, Obi-Wan.  I hope you feel better in the morning. Good night." She glanced back at him once more, before closing the door behind her.

Obi-Wan fell back on his pillows, grateful to finally be alone with his thoughts. Siri was very nice, dutiful, and likely a perfect match, if his mother had anything to do with it, and she was making her case already. But her master…

His eyes drifted closed as he recalled the look of her head below him, and replaced it with Master Jinn's.

Master Jinn's hand unfastening his belt. Master Jinn pushing him to the bed and removing his boots. Master Jinn asking him if he was all right in that smooth, deep, lilting voice. Master Jinn kissing him, touching him…

He moaned and slid one hand inside his open tunic, grazing one nipple. It hardened beneath his palm as he became increasingly, if blearily, aware of another hardening lower on his body.

"…homosexual couples all over the galaxy…"

Siri's words repeated in his head as the mystery lover from his erotic dreams molded a face for the first time. A crooked nose, gentle blue eyes, long, silver-threaded sable hair…

He slid his other hand clumsily into his trousers, stroking his aroused member softly. If Master Jinn knew—would he touch him like this? He pulled his tunic off and imagined his hand was Master Jinn pressing against him. He moved to shove his trousers down, grasping his sac with one hand while squeezing his shaft, images of Master Jinn flashing behind his eyelids.

His drunken movements became more erratic as he rubbed himself desperately, pressing his heels into the bed as he raised and lowered his hips. With a long, moaning wail he came, splattering his chest and stomach with hot, sticky wetness, and he continued stroking himself slowly, prolonging the pleasure, drifting but not sleeping as his thoughts continued to be filled with images of a tall, blue-eyed virtual stranger.

*~*~*

Qui-Gon made his way to the kitchens before heading for his quarters. He needed some food to counteract the effects of the sweet wine if he intended on being fully coherent tomorrow. Not that Lorian would likely be, he mused, thinking back on just how many bottles the two of them finished off after Siri and Obi-Wan had left them.

And Obi-Wan. Distracting as the boy was, Qui-Gon knew he needed to focus his attentions on Lorian and the official signing. A few more days, and all should be finalized. He could think about Obi-Wan then, as they were expected to stay for the festivities for the rest of the week. Of course, he would likely be thinking of Obi-Wan in Siri's bed, for she was sure to attempt seduction once the negotiations were finished.

A bleary kitchen attendant in rumpled sleepwear appeared in the spotless kitchen, offering assistance. Once pointed toward some cold meat and bread, Qui-Gon was left alone at a scrubbed table to ponder his thoughts some more.

He felt someone approaching the door before it opened, and he turned in his seat to find Obi-Wan, wrapped in a robe, blinking at him with a touch of worry.

"Were you going to stay up all night, Master Jinn?" he asked with a touch of humor. "Or is there something I can get you?"

The boy was wonderfully rumpled and sleepy, making him look younger and even more attractive, if possible. Qui-Gon mentally shook himself. To have Obi-Wan alone… "I'm fine, I just needed some solid food. King Lorian has quite the wine collection," he grinned. "Come, sit with me a bit."

Obi-Wan pulled his wrap tighter about himself, as if he could hide inside it. He sat, accepting some of the offered meat and bread. "I was after some food myself. Thank you, Master Jinn."

For a few moments they concentrated on the food before them, entirely conscious of the other's presence at the table.

"About Siri—"

"I'm sorry about our behavior—"

They both started at once and then laughed together. "You first, Sir Kenobi," Qui-Gon allowed, setting his knife and fork down to devote his attention to him.

Obi-Wan straightened in his chair under his gaze. "I wish to apologize for our behavior. I can see why it was inappropriate at that time."

Qui-Gon wondered at the admission; Siri had admitted being the instigator and if Obi-Wan's flustered countenance when Qui-Gon found them was any indication, he hadn't expected any of the advances the young woman had likely made on him.

"Your behavior wasn't the issue, Sir Kenobi, and really, I was far more at fault," Qui-Gon sighed. "Siri's shown interest in this manner for young men on other planets before without my interference. I was wrong to react so harshly, but I still stand by my order."

Obi-Wan dropped his eyes in acceptance of his explanation, but dared to ask, "Why did you, then? You said earlier that it had to do with the negotiations, but have I done something to concern you regarding Siri?"

Would that I could tell you, it was my own jealousy speaking loudly out of turn, Qui-Gon thought to himself.

Instead, he hedged the truth once more. "No, Sir Kenobi. I shall have to meditate on my actions and try to discover where they came from and why. However, the King found the two of you to make an attractive couple," he added. "After the negotiations are complete, I'm sure he will be quite happy to see you together."

Qui-Gon watched the young man fiddle with his fork. Obi-Wan was apparently not convinced he wasn't somehow at fault, and also a bit embarrassed by the King's compliment. He'd noticed the quick glances Obi-Wan had given him throughout the day but had attributed them to nervousness after the scene with Siri. He knew he presented a rather formidable presence with his size and stature and also his title. Many a friendly person had gone formal when they learned who he was; hence his care to hide his Jedi status when looking for a partner of a night in the past.

"May I ask you a question, Master Jinn?" Obi-Wan spoke suddenly, hurriedly, as if he'd lose his nerve if he waited any longer with his query.

"Most certainly, but please, call me Qui-Gon. 'Master Jinn' seems so formal for so early in the morning."

"I—well, Siri told me—"

He stopped, flushing a deep red, and clattered his flatware on his plate.

Qui-Gon reached instinctively for the boy, grasping his forearm gently. "It's all right, Obi-Wan. You can ask me anything; it will go no further than this room."

Obi-Wan swallowed, and Qui-Gon could see his pulse hammering in his throat.

"I can speak with you in complete confidence?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet, cool kitchen, his eyes almost sad as they pleaded with Qui-Gon for secrecy.

"Upon my honor as a Jedi, Obi-Wan," he reassured him, squeezing his arm gently, now a bit concerned for Obi-Wan's state of mind.

"You know that we are very much a marriage and childbearing race, Mast—Qui-Gon, so I was rather—surprised when Siri told me that there were people out there, in the galaxy, that like to partner with those of the same sex. Homosexuals."

"Entirely true," Qui-Gon replied calmly. "There aren't any in the Tempen system?"

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly before answering. "Not that I've ever heard…I think that…" He stopped, staring at Qui-Gon's hand which still rested on his arm. "I think I am going to meet some very interesting people once we become part of the Republic," he finished awkwardly.

Qui-Gon contemplated Obi-Wan for a long moment. The boy was obviously hiding something. Could he be fey? Or was he just truly curious, never realizing that men like Qui-Gon existed?

They sat for a long moment without speaking, Obi-Wan apparently too nervous to meet Qui-Gon's eyes. He drew his arm out from under Qui-Gon's hand and said, "I think I should get to bed. Tomorrow is an important day."

They stood, each wrapping themselves self-consciously in their robes, standing awkwardly near each other.

"Let me make sure you get back to your quarters," Qui-Gon offered. "You look about ready to faint."

Obi-Wan smiled wryly. "I do still feel rather dizzy."

Together they exited the kitchen, Obi-Wan's head just meeting Qui-Gon's shoulder, the men not quite touching yet leaving Qui-Gon feeling comfortably close to the younger man.

Qui-Gon caught him by the elbow when Obi-Wan staggered slightly. "Hold up now, lad, we're nearly there."

Qui-Gon pushed the door to Obi-Wan's room open, noting how neatly the room was kept save the slept-in bed. He guided Obi-Wan to its rumpled sheets, perching him on the edge of the mattress as he helped him out of his robe. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?" he asked, before pressing his hand gently on Obi-Wan's shoulder in a not-so-subtle suggestion to lie down. "Do you need anything, water, perhaps?"

"Water would be good. My head is spinning," replied Obi-Wan, leaning against his pillows and closing his eyes. "I've never had so much to drink. I'm sleepy and yet I couldn't quite sleep before."

He struggled to sit up when Qui-Gon returned from the fresher, accepting the cool glass with shaking hands. Qui-Gon supported him with one hand on his back and Obi-Wan jumped at the touch.

"It's all right, I have you," Qui-Gon said soothingly. "You're going to have one hell of a headache in the morning."

Obi-Wan relinquished the empty glass and lay back again. He shivered when Qui-Gon's fingers grazed the back of his neck, and Qui-Gon pulled the covers up to his shoulders, sitting quietly by his side until Obi-Wan's breathing slowed and steadied, sleep overtaking him nearly at once, but not before he repeated, muttering, "I have you…"

How I wish, Qui-Gon thought. The older man indulged himself for a few moments, his body once again warming to the intoxicating sight of the young, handsome face, relaxed from drink and fatigue. Moonlight curved through the open window to fall gracefully on pale skin, a faint violet-golden cast glittering in the gold touches of Obi-Wan's tousled hair.

Ah, Obi-Wan. Do you even realize how beautiful you are?

He gently moved some stray hair from the boy's eyes with one finger. Looking about him, he noted the sparseness of the room's décor; a few maps, a holopic of Obi-Wan's parents.

The room embodied loneliness. Qui-Gon recognized it, recognized his own future when Siri left, alone in his quarters with a picture of Siri and a memory of a young Tempenian man. No one to share his private thoughts, his secrets—his touch. He picked up the holopic and saw Obi-Wan in his father, kind and quiet, before replacing it and reluctantly leaving the room.

  


  
  
_Art by Shiun_

*~*~*

"Master, did you get enough sleep?" Siri asked as Qui-Gon came out of his meditations. In fact, he'd only slept about two hours and made up for the lack by releasing his fatigue into the Force.

"I will manage. Having some food before bed last night helped quite a bit."

"I thought I heard you come in rather late. Did King Lorian join you?"

"No, but Sir Kenobi found me in the kitchens. He was in need of food himself, it turned out," Qui-Gon related, reaching for the cup of tea Siri handed him.

Siri started. "You were alone with Obi-Wan?" she asked.

Qui-Gon hurried to reassure her. "We talked for a short while, then I helped him back to his room as he was still feeling ill. I brought him some water and then left him to sleep. Siri, I know you like him. I promise you, I was making no advances on him." He stopped and offered his hand to her. "And I'm sorry for my harshness in the gardens, Padawan, although I will still have to insist that you wait," he offered, using the title as the endearment he meant it to be at this stage of her training.  

She put her hand in his. "Accepted and offered to you as well. I guess I jumped to the wrong conclusions yesterday," she said quietly, and he pulled her close into a paternal hug. "Obi-Wan is such an enigma. Sometimes I think he likes me, and then he'll abruptly change his demeanor as if he wishes I weren't so near."

"He has duties to fulfill, such as you and I do, Padawan, and likely is making sure he is not distracted," Qui-Gon reminded her, but he wondered, too. He could not recall a time in the past when Siri did not get her man, although those men were usually falling over themselves to win her over, something Obi-Wan was not obviously doing. Ah, well, he had given Siri a direct order, and Obi-Wan was apparently abiding by it as well. But the questions last night—both the asked and unasked - needled him.

Master and apprentice stood for several minutes embracing before the window, the sunrise lighting the room with a faint lavender and orange glow.

Qui-Gon touched Siri's cheek with a gentle finger, earning an affectionate smile before turning to answer a quiet knock on the door. Obi-Wan stood before him with red-rimmed eyes and a pale, drawn face, looking as though he'd been trampled by banthas only minutes before.

"Obi-Wan, are you all right?" he asked, taking the boy by the arm and pulling him inside to seat him on the sofa. "Perhaps you should go back to bed."

"No, I'm fine, really," he protested, while looking profoundly nauseated. He politely turned down the cup that Siri offered to him. "Your kindness last night—both of yours," he added, looking between Qui-Gon and Siri, "was greatly appreciated. I know now how much not to drink." He grinned weakly as the others tried to hide their smiles.

"Drink this," Siri insisted, pressing the teacup into his hands, and this time, Obi-Wan accepted it. "Do you think the King may wish some, as well?"

Obi-Wan grinned lopsidedly, wrapping and rewrapping his tapered fingers around the hot cup. "I will certainly offer him some if it works as well as you say." He sipped at the steaming liquid, wrinkling his nose at the taste.

"We have some sweeteners here if you like. We don't take it ourselves," Siri offered, handing him some packets.

"I always take two," he answered, "much to my mother's despair."

As he mentioned his mother, Obi-Wan seemed to sink into himself, not saying a word for several long moments.

"Obi-Wan? Are you all right? You've gone white," Siri said.

"Yes," he said faintly, standing without looking at either Jedi. "We should go to the King now."

As he moved for the door Qui-Gon and Siri shared a concerned glance. They took up their cloaks and followed Obi-Wan as he walked slowly down the hall, watching the young man carefully for signs of collapse or faintness.

"Obi-Wan, are you sure you're all right?" Siri asked again from behind his shoulder and he merely nodded, leading them into the casual dining area.

"If you'll excuse me," he murmured, bowing slightly before disappearing into his kitchens, leaving the Jedi alone to stare quizzically at one another.

King Lorian entered shortly thereafter, his haggard face and slow, pained walk an obvious indicator that he felt about as badly as Obi-Wan. "It's been a long while since I enjoyed my wines so much," he said softly, one hand to his head, and when Siri offered to make him some healing tea, he accepted gratefully.

"Has Obi-Wan not come down this morning?" the King asked, grimacing at the tea's taste before reaching for the sweetener. "I hope he feels better than he did last night. Or at least better than I do," he added wryly.

"He may be seeing to breakfast, but honestly, I think he's not feeling well at all, Your Majesty," Qui-Gon replied, glancing toward the empty doorway. "He managed to escort us here but left rather rapidly."

"Shall I see if I can find him?" Siri volunteered, setting her empty cup down and rising from her seat. "I'll take him back to his quarters if necessary, with your permission, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, my dear," Lorian replied, pressing his fingers against his temples. "If he feels even half as badly as I do…"  He chuckled ruefully. "Now, Master Jinn, about the official signings, I wonder if you would consider…"

*~*~*

Obi-Wan slowed as he entered the kitchens, distance helping his panicked heart to calm. I can't do this, he thought. I can't be attracted to him. It could destroy everything.

Nausea, personal realizations, and the proximity of both the man he was drawn to and the woman he was not, all conspired to throw him off balance and make him feel lost, drifting and childishly scared.

The bustle of the kitchen around him soothed him, the familiar faces and sounds reassuring him that his world had not truly changed. That he hadn't changed.

Had he?

"Obi-Wan, are you all right?" Siri asked him again, suddenly appearing at his side. He jumped slightly, then paled further as his stomach revolted against the adrenaline.

"If you'll excuse me," he whispered, and dashed for the lavatory nearby.

"Ah, too much wine," he faintly heard one of the older women cluck. "I've seen it many times. I'll fix him a draught."

He leaned over the stool, emptying the contents of his stomach, miserably wishing he were still in bed, and that Qui-Gon were sitting beside him again as he had the night before.

Several minutes later a shaky but collected Obi-Wan returned to the kitchen, silently accepting the medicinal drink the cook handed him. Siri led him to the table in the corner, the same table where he and Qui-Gon had sat and talked the night before. "Feeling better?" she asked him, squeezing his hand. He returned the pressure slightly, a weak smile giving his pale face some life.

"Amazing how much better one feels after," he answered quietly, cautiously sipping his drink. He made a face at the bitterness of it but declined to complain when he heard another loud cluck come from behind him. "I'll be fine, Siri," he said. "I just need a minute."

"Take all the time you need," Siri said, settling back in her seat, crossing her arms patiently. "Don't you think you should go back to bed? King Lorian doesn't look much better."

"No, I'll be fine. Your tea was much better than this," Obi-Wan whispered, "but don't tell Cook that." He furtively glanced in her direction but she had all but forgotten him by that point, loudly berating a maid who had dropped a ball of dough on the floor.

"I won't if you won't," Siri grinned at him.

Obi-Wan stared into the depths of his cup. Maybe if he allowed himself to be courted by Siri things would be all right. High time he married, and there really wasn't anyone left on Tempen for him. Mother would be pleased. Her social status would be raised, not to mention his own, should he wed. And Siri was such a perfect woman for him, everything his society dictated was important and right. Responsible. Courteous. Ambitious. Female.

He clenched his jaw as another small wave of nausea rolled through him. Hells, I don't know what I want! he thought irritably. Maybe after these negotiations are done I can write my paper and leave Tempen. Go out into the galaxy and see what there is to see.

With one last bitter swallow, he finished his draught and set the cup gently on the table. "We'd best get back to the King," he said. "Looks like breakfast will be on the table shortly."

*~*~*

Obi-Wan and Siri returned, Obi-Wan looking only slightly better than when he'd left, apologizing for his absence. Qui-Gon wanted to pick him up and carry him back to his bed, he looked so pale and wan, but Siri only shook her head at him, indicating that she'd already tried unsuccessfully to convince him to return to his room.

"Obi-Wan, I've asked Master Jinn to hop over to La'Lere and view the grounds where the resort will be built. I'd like you to join him, if you feel up to it, and return tomorrow. Pack warmly—they've had an unusually late snowfall. Royardi is bemoaning the risk to his roses in every letter he sends me," Lorian said, paging through the many papers in his hand, correspondence from La'Lere.

Although Obi-Wan visibly paled further, he nodded his agreement. Qui-Gon felt an odd surge of excitement at the thought of traveling alone with the boy, as Siri would stay behind to assist King Lorian in Obi-Wan's stead. But how to handle Siri—perhaps he better admit his attraction to Obi-Wan now before things went much further.

He briefed Siri on his expectations while he packed.

"Allow no changes to the finalized agreement from anyone, thought I doubt King Lorian will try.  All we're here for is window dressing."

"Yes, Master, I know," Siri replied, slightly exasperated. "We'll be fine."

Qui-Gon turned, a serious note in his voice. "I'm sure you will be. I'm a bit edgy about this trip," he explained. "I need to speak with you about Obi-Wan."

"He'll be with you, Master, so you needn't worry about any advances I may make," she reminded him.

But what about any I may make? he thought. Would you forgive me then?

Before he could say any more, there was a knock at the door, and Siri opened it to admit Obi-Wan.

"The pilot has contacted me, Master Jinn, and our hopper is prepared to leave," Obi-Wan said, bowing to Qui-Gon and Siri. "If you are ready?"

Qui-Gon hefted his pack to his shoulder and clapped a hand to Obi-Wan's. "I'm ready, Obi-Wan. Siri, we'll see you tomorrow—we'll talk more then," he said, dismissing to a far corner of his mind her sudden piercing look at his casual tone with the King's First. He really would have to discuss his feelings with her when he returned.

*~*~*

The Ambassador was small but comfortable, with a separate passenger cabin away from the pilot. Food and drink were provided and Obi-Wan made sure Qui-Gon was settled with a cup of Prothan ale before seating himself for takeoff. A small platter of various tasty cakes sat on the small table between their rather luxurious chairs. This was the King's personal hopper and the trappings were elegant and designed for comfort. The seats were covered in a warm brown leather, and footrests popped up from below allowing the passengers to recline during the trip.

Qui-Gon did just that once the pilot notified them that they had begun to cruise. A nervous Obi-Wan nearly jumped out of his seat and hovered over Qui-Gon, wanting to be sure the Jedi was comfortable.

"Obi-Wan, sit down. I'm fine. Relax," he mildly ordered, tasting a cake. "Enjoy the trip. Tell me more about your family and yourself, since we have some time."

Obi-Wan stood against the far wall for a moment, willing his hands to stop trembling. Alone, with Qui-Gon, for an hour. He was still fearful of what his desires may mean, and determined not to let them interfere with his duty, or Qui-Gon's for that matter. But Qui-Gon was so kind, welcoming…gentle.

"I'm not sure there's much to tell beyond what you already know about me," he admitted. "I have watched the stars since I was a child. I enjoy music. I like to do Tchi, although I haven't had much time for it since you and Siri arrived."

"You're not sitting, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon noted. "Unless you wanted to do some Tchi now?"

Obi-Wan grinned suddenly, shaking his head as he glanced about the tiny space, knowing there wouldn't be room for such movements. The Jedi was teasing him. "They are stretching and almost dancing exercises," he explained.

"I would like to see them, although I realize that this isn't the place," Qui-Gon laughed. "They sound rather similar to the katas we perform."

"I would like to see those then, too, Master Jinn," Obi-Wan replied, finally settling into his seat. "Perhaps I can learn something new."

"And your family? Your mother is quite a formidable woman, isn't she?" Qui-Gon asked.

"You could say that," Obi-Wan admitted wryly. "Don't get me wrong, she's a wonderful mother. I am her only child due to medical reasons—I probably shouldn't be alive, given the horror story I'm told was my birth—and she's given me so much. I'm very afraid I'll disappoint her somehow. The fact that I'm not married with children is hard on her." He stood and moved to the window, staring past the lavender sky and into the space beyond. "Perhaps there's someone out there that I'll choose to marry. Someone who would make Mother happy."

"Obi-Wan, would you marry a woman you didn't love only to please your mother?" Qui-Gon asked quietly.

Obi-Wan lifted his chin resolutely. "Love isn't always necessary. It can come later. Siri would be a fine match, and I would finally be married—and to a Jedi. Very appropriate."

Brave though his words were, they rang hollow, even to himself.

"Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?" he heard Qui-Gon ask softly.

Obi-Wan felt more than heard Qui-Gon leave his seat, and closed his eyes when the master stood behind him. Oh, don't, please don't.

Qui-Gon spoke softly. "Obi-Wan, if you wish to take up with Siri once negotiations are done, I won't stop you. I would, however, ask you to truly examine your feelings, since she is someone very dear to me. Obi-Wan, I don't wish to see her hurt by someone who thinks he may love her *someday*."

Obi-Wan bowed his head, and felt Qui-Gon's warm breath on his neck.

"She deserves more than a hopeful, but likely hollow promise. Siri may be someone your mother thinks is perfect, but is she who you think is perfect? Is she who you want, or is she who you would settle for?" Qui-Gon turned Obi-Wan to face him, placing his hands on his shoulders, squeezing. "Look at me, Obi-Wan. What do *you* want? What will truly make you happy?"

Can I tell him? Obi-Wan wondered, staring into blue eyes that held so much wisdom and so much concern—for him, and for Siri. I want to—but would he understand? If I tell him I can't stop thinking about him, that he invades my very dreams, I risk his rejection and scorn. No, he amended, looking deeper into the blue depths. He wouldn't scorn me. He knows there are others like me. But he's here for Tempen, not to deal with an infatuated King's First. And I can't tell him without risking the life I know. My family. My home.

What *do* I want? *Who* do I want?

With that thought, his mind cleared.

Family, society, tradition. All good things, secure and sure. They had been the basis for his family and friends before him, but not completely for him, or his generation, truly. Change was happening, what with joining the Republic, visits by people from other planets, new cultures waiting around the corner to be introduced. Was there still room for him here?

What did he want?

I want you, Master Jinn. You. Even if you don't return it, even though you probably aren't fey, the truth is, I want you.

But before Obi-Wan could speak, the pilot's voice sounded over the cabin speaker. "Master Jinn, Sir Kenobi, we will land in about five minutes. Please buckle in for your safety."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan answered in a clear voice that surprised even himself.

His thoughts whirled as he fumbled with the seat belt catch. He'd never felt such a rush of emotion, such happy, frightening, intense senselessness in being around another person. He turned towards Qui-Gon and opened his mouth to speak.

"Tell me," Qui-Gon said softly. "I won't judge you."

Words failed him in the face of Qui-Gon's gentle, accepting tone. Instead, Obi-Wan hesitantly reached across the small table and placed his hand on Qui-Gon's in a silent, terrifying question, watching his hand rest there. He slowly rose wary eyes until they met the master's. With great care, Qui-Gon turned his hand palm up and gently gripped the smaller, trembling hand of the King's First.

"You," Obi-Wan whispered, and Qui-Gon smiled.

*~*~*

Siri sat pondering over her datapad, matching and aligning similar requests from the varying planets represented in the Tempen system. She stifled a yawn—really, more sleep last night would have been nice—and for a moment thought of Obi-Wan and her master, traveling together.

"Padawan Tachi?" a cheerful feminine voice asked from the vicinity of the office doorway. "Would you like some hot tea? You look tired, dear."

Siri rose to greet Lady Kenobi, gratefully accepting the steaming mug from her hands. "Thank, you, ma'am. Late night."  She smiled as Minera pulled up a chair and sat near her, amused at the lady's forwardness, such a contrast to her son.

"Siri—may I call you Siri? Thank you, dear. Siri, I was hoping we could have lunch together tomorrow, talk a bit. I am fascinated by the Jedi Order and I would love to hear more."

Siri resisted the urge to mimic her master in raising one eyebrow. She could just come out and say, You sound perfect for my son! Well, Siri wished to get to know him, too, so they were even. "Certainly—shall I meet you here?"

"Oh, no darling, I will send my husband to bring you to our home. It's much cozier there than in the King's dining area—he won't mind if I borrow you for a few hours?"

"No, I think he won't miss me tomorrow. We should wrap everything we need to do tonight until Master Jinn returns. I think lunch will work out fine."

Minera could not hide her delight. "Wonderful! I'll see you then." With that she stood and swept purposefully from the room. Siri blinked at the sudden departure. Poor Obi-Wan, an oddity in his culture and saddled with an overbearing mother to make his differences even more pronounced. Shaking her head, she returned to the datapad, pushing thoughts of Obi-Wan to the back of her mind.

*~*~*

The new warmth between the men was dutifully hidden away when they landed at La'Lere. The palace there was smaller than at Tempen City, but no less glorious. Brightly dressed children personified moving color on the late season snowfall outside the residence near the forest, throwing snowballs and running, rolling and laughing. Their high pitched voices were muffled against the snow, and their eyes sparkled and cheeks glowed red from their exertions. Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan from the corner of his eye, still so young himself. Was he too young?

Trian, the Mayor's First, met them at the hopper, and led them to the small castle residence.

"Here are your rooms. I thought that since you were both working together you wouldn't mind sharing a joined suite. I was initially expecting a spouse for you, Master Jinn, but…well, the beds are large for one person."  He trailed off, apparently not wishing to insult. "This is the common area." The room was decorated in soft blues and contained a sofa and two chairs, a table, fireplace and small kitchen area. "We will, of course, feed you in the dining hall but in case you need a late night snack, that cooler is always stocked for you and there are teas and cakes in the cupboard." He led them to the left and opened the door there. "I thought you would prefer this one, Master Jinn. The bed is significantly larger, and I was told you were a tall man." He eyed Qui-Gon from head to toe and then laughed. "Bigger than I imagined."

Qui-Gon chuckled, ducking to enter the chamber. Trian was right; the bed was quite large, as was the rest of the furniture.

"This will do quite nicely, thank you, Trian." He set his pack on the bed and shrugged out of his cloak.

"Good. I'll just take Sir Kenobi to his room, and then take you both to Mayor Royardi, if that's all right?"

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon looked at each other and nodded. "This way, then, Sir Kenobi."

Packs and robes thus discarded, the three men made their way to the Mayor's study. Golden brown walls were warmed by the flickering fire in the large fireplace, and paintings of landscapes were mounted on the wall behind the Mayor's desk.

"Welcome to La'Lere. I hope the children outside did not disturb you. Please, sit," said Mayor Royardi, after offering his fists in greeting. "I am afraid that after I extended the invitation, we had a few residents voice some concerns about the changes that would take place once we join the Republic and begin building."

"It is my pleasure to serve, Your Honor," Qui-Gon responded, taking the seat Royardi distractedly gestured at, as Obi-Wan stood by Trian slightly behind the Mayor's desk with a worried frown. "Do you know exactly what those concerns are?"

Royardi sighed. "Actually, I've sent for Slamon to come up and talk with us. He should be here any moment."

And at that moment, a tall, haughty young man with dark eyes and hair stepped into the Mayor's study, followed by a nervous young companion. Royardi introduced the first as Slamon, and Slamon in turn introduced his brother, Mekan, who stared at the tall Jedi master in awe.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan offered fists, which Slamon and Mekan returned rather reluctantly. For several long moments the five men and one younger boy stared at one another, sizing each other up for an uncomfortable discussion.

"Well. Let's get started then, shall we?" Mayor Royardi finally suggested, and the group moved to a wide table in the center of the room. "Slamon, perhaps you would like to tell Master Jinn your concerns?"

"It's quite simple, really. Will the influx of new beings from outside our system cause a breakdown in our culture?" Slamon asked, directing his question squarely at Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon sat ramrod straight in his chair, gently clasped hands resting on the table before him. "We have no desire to change your culture, Slamon, I assure you. Republic inclusion is much more about encouraging trade, in finding new farming methods, foods, technology, and people," Qui-Gon answered quietly.

"How can you guarantee that all that will not taint our lives as we live them now? Who knows what sort of corrupt, filthy people will want to move to this system and violate our wives and children, our education, sullying and polluting our lands? We don't want that to happen. What if we do end up with significant problems? How will we return things to the way they were?" Qui-Gon could sense Slamon's worry in his words, and he made is own tone soothing.

"Prevention is the key. Well-established guidelines for visitors will help tremendously. If a visitor can't seem to follow them, they can be asked to leave."

Obi-Wan bent to whisper in Royardi's ear, then, at his nod, straightened. "Slamon, is there more than just yourself and your brother here who are concerned? Perhaps we should have everyone together to speak up, such as at a town meeting?"

Qui-Gon inclined his head. "Excellent idea, Sir Kenobi." Something sparked in Qui-Gon's mind at that moment, a binding burst of pride for the young man before him. If he'd been a Jedi, he would have been a marvelous padawan. Maybe my own.

Slamon nodded in agreement. "There are several—we are here representing them. I think that is a good idea. Tonight, then?"

Mayor Royardi clapped his hands together in finality. "I'll make arrangements for an announcement within the next hour. Slamon, Mekan, I appreciate your candor and willingness to come and speak with us peaceably. Until tonight?"

The two stood and offered their fists, far more willingly than before, and Qui-Gon watched as Mekan gave Obi-Wan a shy smile before following Slamon out. He looked no older than fourteen, and should be on the verge of marriage within the year, but if his quiet interest in Obi-Wan was any indication, then Obi-Wan was quite likely not as alone in his predilections on Tempen as the young man may have thought.

"That went marvelously well!" crowed Royardi, clapping both men on the shoulders. "Please feel free to roam the palace and grounds. Trian will fetch you for supper before we convene in the courtyard." Thus dismissed, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bowed and left for their quarters.

"The mayor seems sure that this will blow over," Obi-Wan remarked, lengthening his stride to keep up with Qui-Gon.

"Agreed. He must present a confident front if he hopes to bring his people together in this," Qui-Gon answered, responding easily to Obi-Wan's candor, as easily as if he were a fellow Jedi. "They will be looking to him for reaction, but I am sure that tonight's discussion will end satisfactorily. Now, we seem to have some free time before us. What shall we do?"

"Well…I would like to get some exercise. Perhaps I could show you my Tchi?"

Qui-Gon put an arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "Sounds marvelous."

*~*~*

Beneath a widely branching tree, where bits of snow fell randomly into open cloak cowls, Qui-Gon stood in Jedi Master stance, arms enveloped in his sleeves as he watched Obi-Wan perform some opening moves of his Tchi exercises. They were extremely similar to the katas he had learned and practiced for several decades, and out of habit, he noted where improvements could be made.

He stepped closer as Obi-Wan stretched an arm out, small beads of sweat on his forehead from his exertions. "May I? I think I might have a suggestion on this step here."

"Certainly, Master Jinn. I would love your input," Obi-Wan replied, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "Not many others take up Tchi, and I've been basically self-taught."

Qui-Gon shed his cloak and moved to stand close behind Obi-Wan, holding the boy's wrists to manipulate his arms into position. He pressed one long leg behind Obi-Wan's, to show the lunge and keep his leg from turning with the rest of his body. "Reach out here—keep your knee forward, and let your fingers fall open. Good. Good.  Now back—keep your shoulder down." The pressure of Obi-Wan's buttocks against his groin was pleasantly distracting, but he managed to retain his composure. "There. Did you feel the difference?"

Obi-Wan maintained his final pose except for turning his head towards Qui-Gon, wrists still encircled by Qui-Gon's fingers. "Yes, Master," he said teasingly. Snowflakes clung delicately on his eyelashes, and without thought Qui-Gon bent down to kiss them away.

He released Obi-Wan's hands when Obi-Wan took a step forward and away, pivoting abruptly to face him. Surprise suffused his features but he made no move to leave, and Qui-Gon felt a flutter within him, a pleasant realization of Obi-Wan's earlier admission of attraction.

Qui-Gon leaned in again and took the boy's lips with his own, cool from the weather, caressing, moving gently against his. He felt Obi-Wan shudder as the soft bristles of Qui-Gon's short beard brushed against his face.

"I'm sorry," Qui-Gon murmured when he felt the boy quake beneath him. "That was forward of me." But Obi-Wan pulled him back down, pressing their lips together again and now it was Qui-Gon who shuddered, falling into a bliss of pleasure at the exquisite feel of Obi-Wan's mouth against his. It had been too long, too long…stop.

Hurt confusion clouded Obi-Wan's expression as Qui-Gon suddenly stood and pulled him up sharply.

"Someone is coming," Qui-Gon murmured in his ear.

Indeed, someone had been there—but Mekan turned and ran off before either man could speak a word to him.

Color ran from Obi-Wan's face. "Qui-Gon—do you think he saw—?" he asked as he sat abruptly down in the snow.

Qui-Gon knelt beside him, gently rubbing reassurance on the boy's shoulder. "Obi-Wan, even if he did see us, there's nothing wrong with it."

"Qui-Gon, how can you say there's nothing wrong? If my parents knew—if my King knew…and Mekan might know now!"

His protests were cut short as Qui-Gon once more covered his mouth with his own. Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan relax beneath the gentle pressure, but there still remained a thread of tension, thrumming with worry about Mekan.

"I know because I feel it in the Force, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon murmured in his ear, nuzzling him slowly.

"The Force?" Obi-Wan asked in seeming nonchalance, as if he were kissed by Jedi masters every day.

"The Force is what alerted me to Mekan's presence. Jedi have the ability to use the energy of the Force when we need to. It's all around us, Obi-Wan, in all things in some measure. We learn to control and use it as part of our training," Qui-Gon explained, standing and offering his hand.

Obi-Wan pulled himself up, retaining the large hand in his. "Is it in me?" He looked down at his body as if expecting the Force to suddenly project from his pores.

Qui-Gon chuckled at Obi-Wan's surprise. "Yes, in you, as well. I would venture that there are Force-sensitives here—and that you could be one—but as the Tempen system was not a member of the Republic we've not done any infant testing. I can test you if you like, although you are a bit old for training."

Obi-Wan grinned at the tease. "I'm nineteen, young to you, and not married with children. I have wanderlust and I am forever looking to the stars. My mother seems to think I've not grown up. Are you sure you couldn't train me?" he jived back, and the men laughed together in the shadow of the woods.

"We still have a few hours before supper, and it's growing dark," Obi-Wan noted, stomping his feet to shake some muddy snow from his boots. "Myself, I would like to go back to our quarters for a time. I need to clean up, and I—I would like to talk to you more."

"You know, Obi-Wan, Mekan just demonstrated a reaction that people on many planets have when they see two fey men together," Qui-Gon said as they made their way back to the castle entrance. "Shock, or surprise, or even horror. More often, there is a much more virulent reaction. If I had actively chosen my preferences—well, it's simply who I am. I had no more say in the matter than I had in my height or the color of my hair."

Obi-Wan remained silent for the rest of their journey, and Qui-Gon didn't press him. The boy had just been kissed by a man who admitted he was fey, and who was not ashamed of it. Could Obi-Wan be as accepting of his own fey self in the face of his own people and culture?

Upon entering their common room they shed their robes and boots and stood before the fire to warm themselves.

"I think people tend to be frightened of things they don't understand," Obi-Wan finally offered quietly. "I know I am. I don't understand why I feel like I do, why I have to be fey and be so different from everyone else."

The pain in Obi-Wan's voice burrowed deeply into Qui-Gon's heart. Briefly he wondered if Slamon wasn't partially right, that there was cultural interference when planets joined the Republic, at least in some respects. Homosexuality was only one instance in millions illustrating the differences among the varied Republic inhabitants.

"I know, Obi-Wan. I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching for the boy to pull him closer and tugging him back to sit on the sofa before the fireplace. Obi-Wan fit nicely under his arm and against his side and they sat quietly together, staring into the red and yellow flames.

"I—I liked your kiss very much," Obi-Wan said softly, tipping his head back to gaze at Qui-Gon's face silhouetted in the firelight.

Aware he was being watched, Qui-Gon cast his eyes downward, his lips curving into a small smile. Siri, I'm sorry, he thought. I told you to leave him be, and here I am, holding him. "Tell me what you're thinking, Obi-Wan," he said softly.

The fire crackled, each small sound a tick in time as Qui-Gon waited for the trembling man in his arms to speak.

"I want you to teach me," Obi-Wan finally said, shy want shining from his eyes. "Teach me how a man loves another man."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon breathed. Such a gift he was being offered, to touch this magical young one. He stroked one knuckle against Obi-Wan's cheek. "Are you sure you know what you're asking?"

Obi-Wan laughed lightly. "No…but that's why I asked."

Qui-Gon held the boy's face, examining the trusting eyes darkened by fire and dampened desire. "And Siri, back in Tempen City? Do you not wish to explore what she has to offer first?"

Obi-Wan shook his head slowly within those large hands. "No. I am not attracted to her, not at all. I know I said she would be a good match—and she would be, truly—but she's not who I want."

"It's me you want? Not just a man, but me?" Qui-Gon found himself quavering when Obi-Wan whispered his affirmation. I never knew I could feel like this, he thought.

"You, Qui-Gon. Somehow, I know it, inside. You feel right to me."

And you feel right to me, lad, Qui-Gon thought, tiny tendrils reaching toward Obi-Wan in his mind growing more pronounced with every word. "We'll go slowly, then," he answered, thumbs stroking across the finely-shaped cheekbones, across the beauty mark on the boy's right cheek. "There's no need to do anything you're not ready for." Obi-Wan nodded solemnly, turning his face up to accept the kiss Qui-Gon offered.

The same gentle pressure as before, the soft sliding of mouths together. This most innocent shared pleasure lasted for several minutes before Qui-Gon ran the tip of his tongue over Obi-Wan's lips, tasting and gently seeking entrance. Obi-Wan gasped and they separated briefly.

"All right, Obi-Wan?" The boy nodded and pressed closer. Qui-Gon allowed his senses to fill with the taste, smell and touch of the warm, bright being in his arms. Bursts of sensation set off small explosions within him; shy fingers stroking his cheek became a hand stroking his hair, then sliding down to warm the back of his neck before they became hands roaming Qui-Gon's shoulders unconsciously. Qui-Gon knew it was warmth they sought, and skin, Obi-Wan's fingers trailing down Qui-Gon's clothed chest as Qui-Gon moved his mouth to taste Obi-Wan's neck.

Qui-Gon was relying heavily on his long-practiced control. Too long alone, too long since he'd felt such a stringent need for another man, and this young one was beyond beautiful, and wanted him, an old man like himself. Obi-Wan had found and claimed Qui-Gon. His heart beat loudly in his ears as Obi-Wan's soft heat melted him. He pushed a sudden guilty image of Siri away.

"May I touch you, Obi-Wan? May I remove your shirt and touch you?" he asked huskily, and Obi-Wan nodded, flushing as Qui-Gon slowly unwrapped his simple tunic and slid it off. Qui-Gon brushed his fingers against one budding nipple, while pressing Obi-Wan down to the cushions. Qui-Gon searched with tongue and lips for the treasures hidden within the planes of the smaller body beneath him, delighting in the soft gasps his touch elicited.

At a gentle push on his shoulder, Qui-Gon sat up, breathing raggedly. Obi-Wan laid trembling hands against Qui-Gon's tunic. "May I?" he asked. Qui-Gon's throat was dry as he nodded.

Nervous fingers plucked at the fabric, tugging inexpertly at the bindings. "By the gods, how do you move in all these clothes?" Obi-Wan murmured, struggling with the layers.

Qui-Gon guided Obi-Wan's hands in their eager maneuvers. Lovely fingers, seeking to touch, wriggled between the folds of cloth. One by one Obi-Wan reverently laid aside each layer, his eyes never meeting Qui-Gon's, instead fully focused on the male body willingly being revealed before him. Qui-Gon reveled in the attention, noting and storing for future recollection every harsh breath, every murmur of impatience, and the increasing flush of the boy's cheek as he grew closer to his goal.

Eventually left with only Qui-Gon's undertunic, Obi-Wan pressed him to lie down.  He was the one taking charge of the moment, and seemed to be acting purely on instinct. He hovered over Qui-Gon for a moment, staring into his eyes with a look of hunger and need.

After a few moments of anticipation he blinked rapidly, breaking the spell, and knelt on the floor beside the sofa, laying his head on Qui-Gon's hip.

Qui-Gon settled one hand in Obi-Wan's hair, fingering down to where the strands bent in a curl against his shoulder. The firelight reflected in the gray eyes, embers of passion flaring within them, warring with a sudden and sad uncertainty.

"Obi-Wan, have you ever been this close with anyone, even a woman?" Qui-Gon asked him, stroking his hair.

"No," Obi-Wan answered quietly, looking away. "Anything beyond kissing outside of marriage is not encouraged. It's considered irresponsible and immoral."

"Ah." Hence the hesitation. Qui-Gon thought for a moment. "And this? How do you feel about what is happening between us now?"

Obi-Wan's eyes slid closed and pain registered on his face. "Now I don't know," he finally murmured, standing and moving to one of the tall, shuttered windows on either side of the fireplace. Opening one shutter, he stared out into the gathering darkness, his skin alive with firelight.

"I feel…" Obi-Wan pressed his forehead to the glass. "…different. Right. Wrong. Happy and frightened at once. It was what I wanted a little bit ago, but now I'm confused again."

Ah. Qui-Gon rose to stand behind Obi-Wan, running his hands lightly up and down the bare arms. "All very valid feelings to have, Obi-Wan. Tell me what it is you're frightened of."

"Everything." He turned to face Qui-Gon sadly. "Who these feelings make me. What my parents will think, my friends, my King. Everything I've worked for—will I lose it all if I reveal I want another man? That I want you?" He paced to the fire, leaving Qui-Gon to stand alone at the window. "There's just so much at risk," Obi-Wan whispered, staring again into the flames. "One minute you are all I can think of, and the next, I am scared of what that means. I don't know. I just don't know. I'm sorry. I'm over-thinking this."

"Shh, Obi-Wan. No apologies are necessary." Qui-Gon reached back to the sofa for Obi-Wan's shirt. "Here. Trian is sure to arrive soon to escort us to supper. We'll talk more tonight, all right?"

Obi-Wan nodded, murmuring his thanks while avoiding Qui-Gon's eyes before disappearing to his room to change. Qui-Gon watched him go, compassion warring with his want. I don't like seeing you walk away from me, he thought. I've never felt this way about anyone before, but I have to let you set the pace. He reached down to touch his wilting erection, closing his eyes to recall the scent and taste of young Obi-Wan.

*~*~*

Roaring bonfires threw waves of heat over the assembled crowd, most folks talking animatedly amongst themselves, some peering around, presumably for the sight himself, the mysterious Jedi visitor.

Once it appeared that all who were coming had arrived, Mayor Royardi escorted Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, along with Slamon and Mekan, out onto the raised terrace designed for public speaking.

"Greetings, my people of La'Lere!" Mayor Royardi bowed at the cheers from the assembled patrons, their combined breaths raising a cloud of vapor over their heads. "I thank you for coming here tonight, to meet our visitor from the Republic, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn." More cheers, perhaps not as enthusiastic as for the Mayor. "And you all remember Sir Obi-Wan Kenobi, I'm sure. Also here are kinsmen of many of you, brothers Slamon Jacobi and Mekan Jacobi." Applause rang out for the Tempenians and all three smiled broadly at the reception. One comely young woman in the front blew kisses at Slamon; his wife, Qui-Gon guessed, while another younger girl smiled shyly at Mekan. Not a few young girls eyed Obi-Wan, as well.

Royardi continued, "It has been brought to our attention that there are concerns for our way of life here in La'Lere. Do you not all agree that we have the most beautiful lands on the planet?" The crowd erupted in proud applause. "And we all agree we wish to keep them that way, do we not?" Again, applause, and as the noise died down, one voice from the rear shouted out, "How can we keep it the way we want if we are expecting so many new and different people?"

The crowd murmured amongst themselves, watching the tall Jedi step up the edge of the platform.

"You will still have the power to limit the cultural influence of others on your own. You are still in charge of Tempen. You choose who you trade with and who you allow to set up business here. Tempen is not being taken over by the Republic—we complement each other. We share in the benefits, and we also share in the responsibility of keeping the peace and preserving the environment. You have done such a wonderful job of doing so, that I am confident that botanists and conservationists from other worlds will want to learn from you, to chronicle how you keep such wonderful balance." Qui-Gon's smooth, modulated voice was friendly and calm, projecting nothing but peace and hope. "You will have much to teach us, I am quite confident of that."

"But we've never had such visitors before—you are truly our first. We don't know how to prepare for tourists," another voice called out hesitantly.

Qui-Gon turned to the woman, her arm entwined with her husband's, both older faces creased in concern. "We have people to come and help with that. We've had many successful tourism plans created with the aid of Republic tourism specialists."

The crowd shifted restlessly, some nodding in agreement, others still not convinced.

Slamon stepped forward. "I know that I had many of the same concerns as many of you," he addressed the crowd, "but I now believe Master Jinn when he says that the Republic will do all it can to protect our way of life. I think we should move forward—cautiously—while examining every step we take to be sure it impacts us as a society as little as possible. We know we're stagnating, we know we must embrace progress, but we can progress without destruction if we handle it correctly."

Qui-Gon felt the palpable relief from the crowd when they started cheering, "Slamon for Tourism Director!" Several voices offered their support, and the young man grinned broadly from the stage.

"All right, all right…I would be very happy to appoint Slamon to the position, if he desires it," Mayor Royardi announced, and Slamon nodded, offering his fists in acceptance. "Then it's settled! Let us celebrate our joining with the Republic, and our newest representative!"

At the far end of the courtyard music began; a joyful, swinging tune, causing many of the villagers to pick up skirts and offer hands despite the chilly air, dancing a traditional dance of celebration and joy.

As the Mayor's party stepped down into the crowd, Slamon's proud wife grabbed him and kissed him soundly. Mekan's admirer grabbed Mekan's hand and pulled him immediately into the crowd, literally forcing him to dance with her. He obliged, casting a last shy glance back at Obi-Wan, who was chatting with Royardi and Qui-Gon at the bottom of the steps. Qui-Gon once again wondered where Mekan's desires truly lay.

Lady Royardi approached from the side, sneaking up behind her husband and embracing him from behind. "Oh, I am so pleased—it was all handled so well, and everyone seems so excited!" she proclaimed. Royardi rested his hands on hers, turning his head to peck her on the cheek.  

"Master Jinn, may I ask, what is that on your belt?" Lady Royardi indicated his lightsaber, peeking out from under his robe.

Qui-Gon drew it out. "A lightsaber, my Lady. It can be used as a defensive weapon or as a tool. Often, it can be used while performing a kata, a dance, if you will, that is as entertaining to watch as it is an exercise in defensive moves. Our padawan learners begin lessons in katas and using a lightsaber very early on in their training."

"Oh! Could you—would you perhaps consider demonstrating for us, Master Jinn?" Lady Royardi asked hesitantly. "We have our traditionals, of course, but I wonder if seeing a dance from elsewhere in the galaxy wouldn't help continue the enthusiasm for bringing others here?"

Qui-Gon lifted his chin, amusedly considering her proposal. "Wouldn't that be too much of a cultural influence for La'Lere?"

"On the contrary," she replied brightly. "It will show us what the Republic has to offer us in keeping the peace." Caught in his own words, Qui-Gon laughed.

"In that case, I shall be pleased to."

Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's robe from him, folding it carefully over his arm twice to keep it from dragging the ground. "You won't be cold?" he asked, but Qui-Gon shook his head.

"The exercise will warm me. I'll need it afterwards, though, so that I don't cool off too suddenly. Have it ready for me?" Obi-Wan nodded, Qui-Gon noting a small touch of pride as he realized that Qui-Gon was asking him to care for him once he had finished.

Several people helped to move the crowd to the edge of the forest. Snow had been cleared there earlier, leaving dry mud and leftover dead leaves from the previous fall. The townspeople grouped together for warmth, some kneeling, all awaiting a chance to see a Jedi with his weapon. Mekan sat on the outside edge, Marilee, as Qui-Gon had overheard her name to be, sat beside him, keeping a tight hold on his hand.

As Qui-Gon came to face the hushed gathering he held his saber gently in one hand.  He smiled at Obi-Wan who waited nearby in anxious anticipation, his private audience of one amidst the many.

Closing his eyes, he drew the Force in around him, filling him as surely as air filled his lungs, centering and empowering him.  He sent a burst of feeling and love across the fragile bond to the one who patiently waited, as yet unaware of their tentative connection, and he began to move.

***Slowly his body turns and twists, the restless quiet before a storm.  Stretching and reaching, his saber softly glowing in the blackness of night, he becomes the Lovers' Kata.

Saber in one hand, the other reaching for his lover, tentative moves, first night together, slow and hesitant, reaching and withdrawing. A light touch here, a brief kiss there.  Braver and bolder, senses fill, saber spins. The dancer dances on leaves and air, the lovers love on body and sheet.  

The lover's mind whirls as his partner covers him, mouth on mouth, skin on skin, pressing and caressing in a timeless rhythm. The dancer leaps in the air with green fire under his hands, the lover lunges and thrusts his soul's fire into his partner, and the fire and light are love, love, rising in its urgency, faster in its need, arching into feeling, straining for release, until a burst, an explosion, a wordless, ecstatic cry in the darkness, the light of love, fire on fire, green in grey, eyes to eyes, lips on lips, sinking into blissful abandon, relaxing into the afterglow of bodies spent, of breath recaptured, the scent in the air of sweet roses and passion, reaching for the hands of singular and special men, entwining their fingers together, connecting in all manners and ways of loving hearts.***

Qui-Gon sank to his knees, a blurry vision of Obi-Wan before his eyes that shimmered and faded into the darkness as he switched off his blade and laid it on the dry ground before him. A wave of affection and adoration crashed over him, coming from Obi-Wan.

The boy had heard.  His would-be lover had felt.  He had danced the dance.

***Transcendence.***

The clouds parted to reveal the moon, and a shaft of silvery light struck the bowed head, the silver threads of his hair burnished a soft lavender by the caress of the beam.

The forest was silent around him, and he was grateful.

***Benediction.***

The constellations in the nighttime sky above twinkled and winked, peeking out from clusters of clouds that floated across them, glowing with their light.

Slowly Qui-Gon raised his head and gazed at Obi-Wan, oblivious to the sudden applause from the awestruck crowd. Women sniffled, surreptitiously wiping at tears on their cheeks, while men gathered their loved ones close, awestruck with the intensity of the emotion Qui-Gon had shared, all without knowing the truth of his heart.

Marilee laid her head on Mekan's shoulder, and he automatically bent his neck to rest a cheek on her soft, dark hair, but his eyes remained on the Jedi and Obi-Wan.

After standing and staring for a very long moment, Obi-Wan stepped quietly behind Qui-Gon and laid the heavy cloak over his shoulders, fingers gently lifting his hair out from beneath the fabric. Qui-Gon wanted nothing more than to embrace this man, this beautiful young man who had touched him so, who had pulled the kata performance of a lifetime out of him, but he knew he could not, not here. An ache swelled from the bond, an insistent declaration that it was Qui-Gon Obi-Wan wanted. Qui-Gon. He answered as best he could with a pulse of affection, a thanking caress.

He glanced towards Mekan, who was staring at them both wistfully even as he cuddled Marilee closer. Qui-Gon allowed Obi-Wan to lead him away to where Lady Royardi was waiting with a drink for the Jedi.

"That was so beautiful, Master Jinn!" she breathed. "I have never seen anything so lovely!"

"Ah, I thank you, my lady," Qui-Gon answered gallantly, nearly gulping down the cool water she offered.

"Will you join us for more dancing, Master Jinn?" asked Royardi, his gaze roaming over the milling crowd as the band set up to play more rollicking tunes.

Qui-Gon shook his head apologetically, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his robe. "Thank you, no. I think I shall return to my rooms, with your permission, of course. It's been a long day."

Royardi gave a disappointed nod. "Certainly, Master Jinn. We shall see you at breakfast, then,  and I hope you rest well. My dear, dance with me?" Royardi took his wife's hand in his and together they joined their townsfolk, many of whom immediately swirled about them, chattering excitedly.

"Master Jinn?" Mekan spoke quietly from behind them, hesitantly reaching out to touch the edge of Qui-Gon's cloak, taking an involuntary step back when Qui-Gon turned to him. "I—I just wanted to tell you that your—dance—was very beautiful. Beautiful."

"Beautiful," echoed Marilee, clinging to Mekan's hand beside him.  

"Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it." He rested one hand on her shoulder, an almost patronizing gesture.

Marilee flushed, her young cheeks turning rosy. "It was very romantic. I could almost see the lady you were dancing with." Mekan shifted uncomfortably next to her, his eyes darting away, meeting Obi-Wan's for a brief second.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "Then I did my part very well, and I thank you again for such beautiful compliments. You two run along and have a good time, now. Obi-Wan, did you wish to stay? I can find my own way back if you do."

Obi-Wan gazed out over the milling mass, unaware of Mekan's eyes upon him. "No, I'll come with you. Goodnight, Mekan, Marilee. Have a good time."

*~*~*

Their common room was only lit by hot coals glowing red in the fireplace, the shutter Obi-Wan had opened earlier lying darkly against the wall. Violet moonlight angled a path to the sofa and across the back. Obi-Wan arrived first, Qui-Gon having been stopped by several more admirers along the way. He had discarded his cloak over the back of the sofa and now stood in the light stream, gazing out over the dark forest below. Misty fog drifted along the treetops, eerie and chill, a sharp contrast to the jubilance they had just left behind.

Qui-Gon halted in the doorway when he saw Obi-Wan's silhouette. A sharp shadow, a fleeting entity fading into the darkness. "Obi-Wan?" he asked quietly, half expecting the near-spectre to vanish at the sound. Instead, the figure's shoulders slumped slightly before straightening again. Obi-Wan turned toward him.

"Tired, Master Jinn?" he asked, meeting Qui-Gon halfway across the room. "Let me take your cloak." Qui-Gon allowed him to help but then insisted he sit down with him on the sofa.

"No more tired than you are, Obi-Wan. Are you hungry?"

Obi-Wan shook his head, resting it on the back of the sofa. "Worn out. It's been a really overwhelming day. You must be exhausted after your kata."

Qui-Gon did not disagree, but wondered at the stiff formality of Obi-Wan's tone. He reached tentatively along their fragile, tiny bond, and met with a sadness that bore out Obi-Wan's quiet. "I suppose I shall retire, unless you want to talk some more?"

Obi-Wan glanced at him, hesitating. "Good night, Master."

Qui-Gon gave the young man's hand a gentle squeeze before rising. He shut his door quietly behind him, leaning against it in thought for a moment before kneeling for a short meditation on his floor.

*~*~*

Obi-Wan's room was painted in shadows. A night bird flew past the window, startling him. The room was unusually warm, and it was too quiet; his ears still rang from the revelries earlier. Slipping between the cool sheets, his mind whirled with the day's events. The trip from Tempen City seemed much further away than only that morning, but the unpleasantness later had been resolved. Slamon would be a good civil leader.

And then, of course, there had been that kiss, and the later events that afternoon. So close—he had come so close to being with Qui-Gon, but his damned sense of propriety got in the way.

But if marriage was required before anything physical happened, how would he ever find happiness? He and Qui-Gon could never marry here—gods, would Qui-Gon even want to, if it were possible? Jedi bonded—much the same thing—but Qui-Gon was several years older than he, and had not bonded yet. Was bonding something he didn't care to do? Never have children, or a family? Did Jedi have families? Did he himself want a family?

And why did that dance of Qui-Gon's affect him so?

Frustrated, he flopped over onto his stomach, clutching at his pillow. Why did every question lead to yet another? Wide awake, he stared out the window at the constellations relentlessly, silently, wheeling across the sky. All I do these days is stare out at places other than where I am, he thought.

Dear Herath, guide me.

*~*~*

A soft tap on his door roused Qui-Gon immediately. "Come," he called softly. "What is it, Obi-Wan?"

A white-clad figure moved towards his bed. "Did I wake you?"

"Sit," Qui-Gon invited, pushing himself up and patting the mattress. "I wasn't truly asleep yet." A ghost of a smile passed across Obi-Wan's face as he settled himself cross-legged near the older man's legs, facing the window. While waiting for Obi-Wan to speak, Qui-Gon sought his own words to explain the bond that had grown between them.

"My room was dark, and too damned quiet, and—well. I was lonely," Obi-Wan finally admitted. "I don't wish to be alone tonight."

Qui-Gon reached a hand to rest lightly upon Obi-Wan's, silently affirming his presence, and Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly at the welcome.

"The constellations seem brighter here than at home," Obi-Wan mused. Qui-Gon shifted across the bed to see where Obi-Wan pointed. "That tight cluster there, just below the window top? That's Burien's heart." Obi-Wan sighed. "Brighter, stronger almost. As if he's not given up on her. Perhaps he's even more sure it's Herath he wants. He's offering her his heart."

"And which goddess is Herath?" Qui-Gon asked softly, stroking the back of Obi-Wan's hand with his thumb. His remoteness earlier had disturbed Qui-Gon, and meditation had not relieved it. Having Obi-Wan come to him was an encouraging sign.

"Goddess of love." Obi-Wan turned, pressing his face into Qui-Gon's shoulder, his body quivering as Qui-Gon closed protective arms around him. "I'm frightened, I'm scared, and yet I still want to be with you," he said in a rush, his voice shaking.

Qui-Gon gently pulled him down to lie with him on the pillow, tucking him close. "Hush, Obi-Wan. Sleep. We'll talk in the morning when your weariness isn't doing your talking for you." He pressed his cheek to the golden-red hair and stroked the slender back as Obi-Wan self-consciously rested his hand against Qui-Gon's chest.

"Thank you," he heard whispered, then felt the boy eventually drift to an uneasy rest. The sleepy, quiet connection stirred in Qui-Gon's mind, another flare mirroring that first burst of affection, forming a stronger nexus that could grow into something much, much more.

He held the boy tenderly. "Obi-Wan."

*~*~*

Sometime in the night Qui-Gon woke to find Obi-Wan no longer at his side. Shifting up to his elbow, he found the young man standing once again near the window, half in shadow, half in light. His face was turned up as if looking to the heavens, and Qui-Gon silently watched a single tear track down the illuminated cheek. "Obi-Wan?" he called softly. The pain so clearly evident on Obi-Wan's face touched Qui-Gon deeply, and he reached out for him. Obi-Wan swiped at his face before sliding a trembling hand into his strong one, resettling on the bed, curling his body against Qui-Gon's.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," he murmured. "I grew too warm and went looking for cooler air for a moment."

That does not explain the tear, Qui-Gon thought.

"Did you want to return to your own room? Would you be more comfortable?"

"No—no. May I stay?"

Qui-Gon gave him a gentle smile. "I wasn't asking you to leave, Obi-Wan, only ensuring your comfort. Perhaps if you removed your tunic; I am warm myself."

Obi-Wan sat up and allowed Qui-Gon to gently slide the shirt off him before he attended to his own. Starlight struck the older man's chest, glinting off curling hairs, and Qui-Gon held himself still as Obi-Wan unconsciously reached out to feel the silver against his palm.

"Maybe this is a dream," Obi-Wan whispered. "And if I'm dreaming, then I can do whatever I want." He leaned up and pressed his lips to Qui-Gon's.

Qui-Gon cupped the back of Obi-Wan's skull, softly returning the kiss. Drawing slowly back, he looked into Obi-Wan's face, pale in the darkness. "Obi-Wan? Tell me."

"Please. Just touch me."

"Obi-Wan, I—"

"I know. I confessed all my societal rules, everything that was holding me back before. But you are the person I want in my life, and if I don't tell you that now, I may never. Something about that kata—it made me feel so close to you. Please—I want this. I want you."

Oh, he wanted him, too, how he wanted him. But—"What of your parents, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan leaned his forehead against Qui-Gon's chest. "They won't be happy. They probably won't understand—but this is my life. I've never loved anyone before, Qui-Gon, and I've waited for it for so long, longer than anyone else I know. But is it supposed to hurt like this?"

Qui-Gon pulled the boy to him, running his fingers through silky strands. "Love always hurts in some measure, my own, but sharing in the pain also means sharing in the joy. It is the joy in love that makes it worth the pain."

Obi-Wan tipped his head back to meet his love's eyes. "Find joy in me, Qui-Gon. Help me find it. Please."

Qui-Gon bent to capture those soft lips again to avoid the sorrow in the boy's face, but the bond shimmered with it, combined with a quiet, gentle lust. He wanted this boy, this precious young man, so eager to learn and to know and to love. The Force sang in his heart, offering affirmation. He laid the boy against the pillows, slowly tracing his fingers across damp, warm skin. A pulse raced against his fingertips, and he pressed his lips against it, delighting in the fluttering beneath them, tasting. Tentative fingers curled tightly into his hair as he slid his mouth down to one rapidly rising and falling nipple, slowly circling the nub with the tip of his tongue. Obi-Wan quivered beneath him, struggling to remain still.

"Move however you wish, Obi-Wan, however feels right to you. There is no wrong way to make love—open yourself up to me. Feel your joy."

At once, Obi-Wan moaned and arched his back, blindly pleading for Qui-Gon's mouth against him again. A spark flashed between their minds, and a simultaneous quiet cry emanated from them both at the strength of it. Qui-Gon bent back to his task, feeding the slow fire building in them both. The strengthening bond was similar to the one he shared with Siri, but with a different resonance and tone, a different color entirely. It sang of Obi-Wan, of love and bright hope, anxiousness, sorrow, but green with the promise of youth. He brought the nipple to a stiff, hard peak before turning his attentions to the other. He was bracing himself against the mattress with one hand to keep from crushing the boy while the other stroked relentlessly up and down Obi-Wan's flank, down to his hip and up again.

Obi-Wan's head turned restlessly from side to side. Qui-Gon could feel his desire, could feel his entire being so enveloped in warming pleasure that any rational thought had abandoned him and pure instinct took over. Never had Obi-Wan's own manipulations caused such a reaction in his body, never had another person ever made him feel this way, so alive, so wanted, so loved, and Qui-Gon did all he could to share. Qui-Gon blew hot breath on Obi-Wan's stomach as he moved down the boy's body, down, down towards the center of Obi-Wan's desire. He gently tugged on the thin sleep pants, up and over a needy erection, and Obi-Wan gasped as cooler air caressed him.

Qui-Gon sat back, pulling the pants completely away, revealing the young body beneath. Bathed in starlight, glinting with fine beads of sweat, Obi-Wan was like an angel on loan, or one of his own mythical gods come down from the heavens to offer himself to a lonely old man. Long and heavy, his stiff penis curved up towards his belly, the foreskin revealing a weeping head. Qui-Gon knelt, straddling Obi-Wan's legs.

Obi-Wan had partially raised himself up on his elbows when Qui-Gon had stripped him, and now watched with wide eyes as a large hand reached to grasp him, to slide slowly up and down his hardened shaft. A soft moan escaped him, his eyelids slid shut and he fell back to the pillows, neck arching. As Qui-Gon's mouth enclosed the head of his cock, he came.

*~*~*

Obi-Wan slowly grew aware of Qui-Gon's murmuring voice while a gentle hand stroked his hair. "Obi-Wan, lad, come back to me, now. Obi-Wan." He opened his eyes, blinking at the handsome face hovering above him, gracing him with an amused smile.

"What happened?" Obi-Wan whispered, taking stock of the relaxed state of his body, how warm and languid and loose he felt.

"You passed out for a few seconds. You'll be all right in a moment or two." Qui-Gon's hand continued its relentless calming caress.

"I—I passed out? Oh!" Obi-Wan's mouth fell open in surprise as he recalled the unbearable exquisiteness of Qui-Gon's mouth on him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

"Shhh, Obi-Wan, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"But…I…you…damn."

Qui-Gon threw back his head and laughed. "This was the first time you've ever had someone do that for you, yes? Very normal reaction for a young man of your age."

"But I did nothing for you."

Qui-Gon bent to drop a kiss on one warm cheek, while Obi-Wan wound strands of his lover's hair about his fingers. "Oh, you did, my Obi-Wan. You reminded me what it was like to be young again."

"Will that happen again? So quickly, I mean…"

"Well, I doubt this night. That took the edge off; I think you'll find an easier time of it now, if you wish to do more."

Obi-Wan's shaky hand reached to touch the short beard, to trace the soft lips that had so intimately touched him. "I do wish it. I want you to teach me everything." He leaned up to kiss that mouth, that mouth that claimed him as 'my Obi-Wan', that mouth that had brought him to blinding ecstasy.

Qui-Gon gathered the boy in his arms and held him close as they kissed. Obi-Wan tasted his own essence, and felt his reanimated erection pressing against Qui-Gon's thigh. His hand roamed across Qui-Gon's lower back, daring to edge inside the waistband of the loose sleep pants. The big man offered no resistance when Obi-Wan attempted to lever him to his back, sprawling across him.

Obi-Wan repeated the lesson he had been taught, lapping inexpertly but with great care at Qui-Gon's nipples, sliding sleep pants down and off until the two were fully naked and staring hotly at each other in the dim light. Qui-Gon shifted, starlight shadows falling across his face as Obi-Wan reached down to run one slender finger against the silky skin of Qui-Gon's erection, half-smiling at the shudder he caused.

"You are very—big," he murmured, stroking again, and Qui-Gon chuckled as he pulled him down beside him.

"And you are very beautiful, young one," he whispered, "but you are about to drive me mad." He gave a small thrust of his hips forward, sliding his cock against Obi-Wan's, eliciting a gasp at the hot contact and an answering thrust.

Together they writhed, legs entwined, tongues reaching from open mouths, hands roaming along backs and buttocks as sweaty bodies strained towards completion.

His strangled cry was swallowed by Qui-Gon's hungry mouth as Obi-Wan's second release of the night spurted between them, warm and thick against Qui-Gon's belly. A few more thrusts against a shuddering Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon came, his body stiffening against the boy. Obi-Wan whimpered at the continued contact on his over-sensitive cock but held his ground until Qui-Gon relaxed, his forehead settling into the crook between Obi-Wan's neck and shoulder.

"By the gods," Qui-Gon panted. "By the gods."

Obi-Wan caught his own breath, smoothing long strands of hair back from Qui-Gon's face in a silent litany of tender adoration. The wet stickiness cooled between them but he didn't care, loath to release this man, his lover. Instead, he rested against him, bedclothes tangled on the floor and limbs tangled on the bed.

*~*~*

It would have been far better to have awakened on their own, with time to greet each other properly, to touch and to remember. Instead, they found themselves blinking in the early morning light at a gaping Trian. The shocked man stammered out that no one answered his knock, breakfast would be ready in half an hour, and abruptly turned and left the room, leaving Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan belatedly reaching for sheets and blankets.

"Qui-Gon…" Obi-Wan turned to his lover, pale with dread. "What will he say to Mayor Royardi?"

Qui-Gon stood and offered his hand. "Possibly nothing," he answered, pulling Obi-Wan up for a fierce embrace. "Live in this moment, Obi-Wan. If something is said to us later, we will deal with it then."  He tugged Obi-Wan's chin up to look into his eyes. "I will not regret our time together, no matter what anyone says. I hope you would not, either."

After a brief flicker of worry, Obi-Wan nodded, then turned to gather his clothing, suddenly shy as he held them against his naked body. He looked back, then walked back to plant a soft kiss on his teacher's mouth before grinning and retreating to his own quarters to clean up.

Qui-Gon watched him leave, fingers absently tracing his lips as he sensed Obi-Wan's continued worry across their infant bond. More happened last night than Obi-Wan knew.

*~*~*

Thirty minutes later, two composed, proper men joined Mayor Royardi and his wife at their breakfast table.  The Mayor greeted them jovially, recounting the reels and toasts from the previous evening with a punchy enthusiasm born of little sleep and a copious amount of adrenaline, while his wife shared tiny bits of gossip about some young couples who seemed very happy together, dancing the night before.

Qui-Gon had stopped Obi-Wan outside of the dining room briefly, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders and guiding him through a short breathing exercise to calm him. Obi-Wan was still darting nervous glances at the mayor and at Qui-Gon, and had stiffened noticeably when Trian joined them, but Trian only nodded towards them politely, attracting no notice, and spoke with the mayor for a few moments before leaving again, casting one puzzled glance over his shoulder at his fellow Tempenian.

Oh, gods, thought Obi-Wan. What did that look mean? Qui-Gon appeared to be oblivious to it, buttering a piece of toast and speaking in a calm, modulated voice to Royardi. Obi-Wan wasn't even listening; he still looked out the doorway where Trian had disappeared, half expecting the man to return and reveal their secret. Next to him, Qui-Gon leaned back in his chair, reaching beneath the table to pat Obi-Wan's thigh reassuringly.

Royardi brushed crumbs from his beard as he pushed his emptied plate away. "I do want to thank you again for coming here on such short notice. I think you've set some fears to rest, and Slamon will be sure to take good care of us."

"The Republic is at your service, Mayor. I am always glad to be of assistance," Qui-Gon answered, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"I think you've done an admirable job, Master Jinn. Sir Kenobi, you also. Perhaps you would consent to being our liaison with Tempen City once construction of the hotels are under way?"

Obi-Wan colored under the praise. "I thank you, Mayor. It is certainly something to consider once I have achieved my master diploma."

"Good, good! We shall speak of it then. And now, I'm afraid I have some further business to attend to; Slamon and Mekan have some ideas they wish to discuss before construction begins. Ah, the enthusiasm of youth, always in a rush to learn and do it all." He winked at Qui-Gon. "Surely you understand."

Qui-Gon suppressed a grin as a sudden vision of an eager Obi-Wan, naked and panting, flashed to the front of his mind. "I do. I think with age comes a natural need to slow down and enjoy the moment. Good day to you, Mayor." Qui-Gon stood and bowed, Obi-Wan rising to join him.  

Once safely inside their quarters, Obi-Wan turned to Qui-Gon, reaching for his hand. "Trian didn't say anything to the mayor, did he?" he asked. "Maybe he won't say anything at all."

"Perhaps not. But, Obi-Wan, once the hotels are built and citizen members of the Republic begin arriving, I can guarantee you that same-sex couples will be among them. He will see far more people like us in the coming years, young one."

"But he knows nothing of those people right now, only you and me."

Qui-Gon folded his arms about Obi-Wan, pressing his cheek against the reddish hair. "And what is so wrong with 'you and me'?" He bent to drop a kiss on Obi-Wan's lips. "We should pack. Trian will arrive soon."

Obi-Wan stopped midway to his doorway. "What of Siri?" he asked. "What will we tell her?"

"You will have to leave that to me, Obi-Wan. She's my padawan, and my responsibility."

"But I—"

"No, Obi-Wan. This rests entirely on me." Obi-Wan nodded reluctantly, watching Qui-Gon enter his room before turning to his own.

Fifteen minutes later Trian arrived, neatly cornering Obi-Wan in his room by closing the door behind him.

"What exactly was it that I saw this morning?" he asked in a voice that was quietly seething with anger and disgust. "What, exactly?"

Obi-Wan strove to keep his hands from trembling. So, this was it. An example of the reaction he could expect to see when his family found out. Disgust, revulsion, perhaps even hate. And this was only from a virtual stranger!

"I do not see where I must explain myself to you, Trian," he answered bravely, turning his back and continuing to pack. "I'll be ready to leave momentarily."

"Sir Kenobi! I saw you in bed with another MAN. The room reeked of sex, and that makes no sense at all. Did he make you do something perverted, something to force a Republic issue? Is this what the Jedi do?"

"NO!" Obi-Wan answered, whirling to face Trian again. "Qui-Gon did not force me into anything."

"Then why?"

"I am not going to discuss this with you any further, Trian, and I would appreciate it if you would refrain from discussing my private matters with anyone," Obi-Wan said, closing his pack and hoisting it over his shoulder. "Shall we go?" He stalked out of the room, trying and failing to utilize the breathing exercise Qui-Gon had led him in earlier that morning.

Trian followed, was preparing for another verbal assault when Qui-Gon entered. The presence of the Jedi effectively silenced the Mayor's First, but he shot one final concerned and angry look at Obi-Wan before leading the men to the hopper's pad.

*~*~*

Only when the hopper had become airborne did Obi-Wan speak. Qui-Gon, sensing Obi-Wan's upset, had chosen to wait patiently until Obi-Wan was ready to tell him what was troubling him.

The boy rose and stood, looking out the window he'd claimed as his own on the trip over. "Trian thinks you used some form of Jedi coercion to get me into bed," he said, the words echoing back to him from the pane.  "He didn't even begin to consider that it might just be me."

"Ah. I thought he might have had words with you. It's outside of his realm of experience, Obi-Wan. You were as much ignorant until Siri told you about homosexuality in the galaxy, wouldn't you say?" Qui-Gon came to stand behind him, hands running reassuring strokes along Obi-Wan's arms. "Very soon, Obi-Wan, your people will be learning a lot more about other people than just their sexual preferences. Better he knows now; he won't be so shocked when he sees it again."

"It was his disgust—he was disgusted by you, by finding us together in your bed. My parents…I fear their reaction may be worse than his was."

"Very likely, Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan felt stiff and cold against him, trying to remain strong while the life he'd always known began to crumble around him.

"Will you be there when I do tell them?" Obi-Wan asked, so quietly Qui-Gon had to bend close to hear.

"If you wish it, my Obi-Wan, I will be there."

*~*~*

Siri settled herself on the comfortable sofa in the Kenobi family living room. Minera Kenobi sat close beside her, a book full of pictures of Obi-Wan as a child on her lap. Siri had already been on a tour of the house, including a peek at Obi-Wan's former room, complete with childish models of the Tempen system made from paper and glue hanging from the ceiling, and an older telescope aimed out the window into the heavens. Constellation posters covered the walls, and a red and green plaid blanket lay across the foot of the bed.

And now, pictures of a very young Obi-Wan wrapped in that very blanket, nighttime shots taken when the moon was at its zenith in the summertime, Obi-Wan leaning against his mother as she pointed out a star cluster to him.

"He has had a love of space since he was a small child. Astronomy comes as naturally to him as breathing; I think that's probably why he hasn't settled down," Minera said, turning the pages thoughtfully. "He's been so single-minded about being awarded his diploma."

" 'Your focus determines your reality' is what my master says," Siri said. "Obi-Wan will make a fine astronomer, I'm sure."

"Oh, of course he will. Then perhaps he can set that focus on something—or someone—a bit more close to home." Siri did not miss the implication. Present and available. "You do like my son, don't you, Siri?"

"Obi-Wan is a very nice man," Siri admitted.

From a chair on the far side of the room, Lord Van Kenobi cleared his throat before rising to nonchalantly peruse the bookshelves nearby. Minera dismissed his quiet warning to back off with a wave of her hand and turned back to Siri.

"Tell me about your childhood, Siri. What is it like, being a child in the Jedi Order?"

As Siri related how young initiates were raised, Van strolled to the window, watching the King's hopper fly in to land on the pad near the palace. The Kenobi home was situated on the outer edge of the palace grounds, and from this rather close proximity he could easily see two robed figures emerge and walk down the ramp. They paused, waiting until the pilot joined them. After a few moments, the pilot left, crossing to the front of the hopper and beyond to the residences at that end of the grounds. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan remained, apparently talking.

Van felt an unusual twinge when he saw Qui-Gon place both hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders and leaned in, Obi-Wan's hand reaching to touch the side of the master's face as they kissed.

No. It couldn't be. That could not be his son.

No.

Van flicked his eyes towards his wife and Siri, laughing at some old picture. He looked again, chewing his lower lip at the embrace he now observed.

He had a bad feeling about this.

*~*~*

Obi-Wan pulled out of Qui-Gon's soothing hug, catching his hand and tracing the large knuckles with his finger. "We really must report to the King," he murmured, glancing back at the ship. "But I wish we could just take the hopper and go away together."

"Run away?" Qui-Gon asked. "No, lad. That solves nothing."

The boy leaned into the comfort of Qui-Gon's encircling arm. His eyes darted towards the direction of his parents' home. "I know. Still. As a child I used to dream of traveling among the stars, no concern for those I would leave behind, no responsibility. But now…" he trailed off, staring at the hand in his own. "Now I'm grown up and shouldn't have such fancies."

"Fancies have their place, Obi-Wan, and I look forward to thoroughly exploring them later. But right now, we best be getting to the King." The boy in his arm looked up at him with a quiet yearning. A touch of sadness quivered the bond between them, and Qui-Gon knew he would have to show the bond to Obi-Wan soon, very soon.

"Yes." Obi-Wan leaned up to kiss him, one brief, loving touch, before they composed themselves into proper stances of duty and left for the palace.

After appropriate greetings to the King and his wife, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan proceeded to give the King their reports, much the same information that Royardi had already sent ahead. Obi-Wan made sure to mention Slamon and how he had been accepted readily by the townsfolk, which seemed to please Lorian to no end.

"Marvelous, marvelous! Tonight, we shall sign, and celebrate! Full dress regalia, Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Obi-Wan replied, bowing slightly.

"Ah, Master Jinn. You have not seen how grand a Tempenian man can look until you've seen him in his regalia," said Queen Suzette. Her gaze took on a faraway look, as if recalling past glory days. "Lorian is magnificent in his."

"Welcome back, Master, Obi-Wan. Your mother has your outfit ready for you, Obi-Wan," Siri said, joining them in the King's office. "She said to stop by when you returned today. Actually, she invited Master Jinn and me for tea, as well."

"Go, then! Enjoy your tea, my friends. I shall see you before supper for the formal signings." King Lorian offered his arm to his wife and they left together, the Queen planting an affectionate kiss on her husband's cheek.

"They are the sweetest couple," Siri sighed, watching them go. "Someday…" She turned to smile openly at Obi-Wan, who once again offered her his own arm, as custom demanded.

"Did Master Jinn behave himself while you were away, Obi-Wan?" she asked, teasing, as they walked outside. "He promised me there would be no poor reports."

Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow, while sending soothing vibrations to Obi-Wan. The boy had literally jumped when she asked. "No questions about the visit itself, only about my behavior?"

"Oh, we heard reports from Mayor Royardi already, Master. You both were well-lauded." She smiled at Obi-Wan. "Perhaps you should consider representing Tempen in the Galactic Senate, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Ah—well, that's very kind of you, Siri, but I don't think I have experience enough for that sort of responsibility."

"And your behavior, Siri? What will King Lorian have to tell me?" Qui-Gon asked, drawing her attention away from Obi-Wan, who exhaled a relieved breath.

"Why Master, I am surprised! I suppose you shall have to hear for yourself, and punish me appropriately." They laughed, while Obi-Wan's forehead creased in confusion.

"Old joke, Obi-Wan," Siri explained. "I wasn't always such a good padawan."

"No, you most certainly were not," Qui-Gon said dryly.

"You see, Obi-Wan, once I was left in the care of Master Offee while Master Jinn went on a solo mission. When he returned, he learned that I had single-handedly destroyed Master Offee's kitchen with a rather explosive casserole. I got to spend the next tenday in the cafeteria, learning basic cookery skills there. However, Master Jinn still won't let me cook anything for him; he's afraid I may yet blow something else up—or poison him."

"I have no desire to punish myself for your lack of culinary talent, Siri. Ah, Lady Kenobi, Lord Kenobi. We thank you for your kind invitation."

If Qui-Gon noted any discomfort on the part of Lord Kenobi as they entered his home he made no mention of it, but Obi-Wan's forehead creased slightly when his father greeted Qui-Gon a bit tersely, and held his son in a prolonged embrace, just enough for only Obi-Wan to notice.  

"What is it?" he asked his father softly, turning him away from the rest of the party. "What's wrong?"

"Come with me a moment, son," Lord Kenobi replied, darting a cautious look back at his wife, who had already engaged both Qui-Gon and Siri in an explanation of a family portrait prominently displayed on the wall. He led his son to the study, closing the double doors quietly behind him. He stood facing them for several seconds, hands clenching the knobs, before turning to an increasingly worried Obi-Wan.

"What, Father?"

"Obi-Wan, have you any interest in our Jedi friend out there?"

Obi-Wan blinked at the use of "Jedi" before realizing his father meant Siri. "Um…well, frankly, no. As a matter of fact, I think she is interested in me but I'll have to find a way to turn her down—why?"

Kenobi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "Well, I believe your mother feels that the two of you would make quite the match. She had Siri here for lunch today and was giving her the grand tour, showing pictures of you as a child—all those things that mothers-in-law do. Now, now…we can tell your mother no, though she'll be drastically disappointed." He stopped at the dawning horror on Obi-Wan's face as his son realized that his future was being planned once and for all by over-enthusiastic women. "Son, there's something else—something I saw."

Sinking onto the sofa, Obi-Wan rubbed at his head, curling a lock of hair around his finger. "What, Father? Something you saw?" he asked confusedly.

"I saw you and Master Jinn at the hopper. Just after you arrived."

If one could know what a drain felt like when water emptied through it, then Obi-Wan felt it now.

"What—what exactly did you see, Father?" A barest whisper, a prayer that what he'd seen had been chaste, and that Trian hadn't called ahead.

"I saw, Obi-Wan."

The quiet finality in his voice pierced Obi-Wan like a blade, cutting his heart open, laying his soul bare. He knew. His father knew. And Qui-Gon wasn't with him. Qui-Gon, I need you.

"Are you going to tell Mother?" he asked finally, after spending a long, silent moment staring at the floor. His boot was scuffed and needed polishing, some logical corner of his mind registered. And the carpet was blue. Like Qui-Gon's eyes. Oh, gods. Qui-Gon.

"I think we shall have to, eventually, son. Is this why you haven't taken a wife? You would rather be with—with other men?"

It occurred to Obi-Wan that his father was not angry. Sad, worried—but not angry. He nodded in response. "I wasn't really sure—I've never heard of such a thing on Tempen before. But when I met Qui-Gon…" his voice trailed off as he watched his father sit heavily in a chair opposite him. "Father, what am I going to do?"

Minera swept in, preventing any answer, with Siri and Qui-Gon following more sedately behind her. "Ah, there you are! A little father-son conversation! I hope we're not interrupting. Obi-Wan, I was telling Siri earlier about how close you and your father are. Wasn't I, Siri? Of course. Being a father is such a rewarding experience; I cannot wait until I see you become one yourself, Obi-Wan." She took Siri's arm and led her to the sofa to sit with Obi-Wan. "And you two look so charming together, really. Don't they, Master Jinn?"

Calling on all his experience in diplomatic negotiations, Qui-Gon managed to smile politely and agree. "They do, Lady Kenobi." Inside, he was having to balance Obi-Wan's pain projecting across the bond with his own sense of discomfort at seeing Obi-Wan's mother planting his padawan next to her son.

Beside Siri, Obi-Wan was tense, and she took his arm as if to calm him. Whatever he and his father had been discussing, they'd most definitely interrupted at a bad time, and Qui-Gon squelched another jealous bubble at Siri's casual possessiveness.

"Obi-Wan, I have your regalia ready for you; I do hope it still fits. Oh, Siri, you have not seen anything until you've seen a Tempenian man in full regalia," Minera said brightly, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Siri laughed. "That's exactly what Queen Suzette told us before we left the palace, Lady Kenobi."

"It's true. And Obi-Wan looks—oh, you'll have to see tonight.  Come, Obi-Wan, I have it for you in your room."

Obi-Wan stood dazedly, blindly following his mother without saying a word to either Jedi.

"Master Jinn, I believe my wife has some tea set up in the dining room for us all, if you care to join…?"

"Is Obi-Wan all right?" Siri asked, for which Qui-Gon was profoundly grateful.

"He'll be fine, I'm sure. Just a bit of family news, nothing to concern yourself about," Lord Kenobi said, holding the door for them. As Siri exited first, he fixed a hard stare on Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon returned the look with a questioning one of his own, before preceding Lord Kenobi out of the study.

*~*~*

"Master, what was all that about?" Siri asked, once they had left the Kenobi home. Obi-Wan had remained quiet throughout the meal, looking pale and sick. His mother had pressed more tea on him, but he brushed her off, claiming weariness and that yes, he would take a nap before the evening's festivities; no, of course he didn't want to miss any part of it, not after all the work he'd put into it. Yes, Mother. No, Mother. Thank you, Mother. His father had sat stiffly in his chair at the head of the table, speaking to Master Jinn about the events in La'Lere with mild interest, his thoughts most definitely elsewhere, his glances lingering on his only child.

"I'm not sure, Siri, but I have a good guess. We need to talk, you and I."

"Oh? Sounds serious. Did you sneak a kiss from Obi-Wan while my back was turned?" she teased, turning to walk backwards in front of him. When he didn't smile back, she halted. "You did. You did kiss him."

And I want him, too, Qui-Gon thought. More than I ever realized.

"It wasn't planned, Siri. He made his interest known to me first, and I hadn't had time yet to speak to you about it." He watched, shamed, as his padawan turned her back on him. The tense set of her shoulders said more than the simmer that bled across their muted training bond. "Siri."

"I'll see you in our quarters, Master. Excuse me." Her cloak billowed behind her as she rapidly walked away, head held high.

So, this was it. Qui-Gon turned around, looking back at the Kenobi home, where he'd left his young lover, then spun slowly on his heel to face the palace that his padawan stalked towards. This was all going to come to a head tonight. He reached out to the Force, seeking guidance, but met only silence beyond the quiet thrumming of two bonds, pain echoing along them to collide in Qui-Gon's heart.

"Leaving this to figure out myself, are you?" he asked the Force, speaking to the sky. "Perhaps Herath could help me? Burien? Anyone? No?" His sigh of resignation was loud in the outdoor quiet, disturbing two lovebirds in a nearby tree. "Mind sharing your secret?" he asked them hopefully before they flew away.

*~*~*

"Siri, he's fey. Think logically on this—a handsome young man, well-liked, well-educated, and still not married with children at his age, in this culture?"

Siri was staring out the window into the sunny afternoon, the same window he had stood before just days ago, watching the sun go down. From the anger and pain coming across the bond, he was in for a tongue lashing—deserved it, too. He stood in placid Jedi Master stance, arms ensconced in his sleeves, but in truth, his fingers were clenched together, hidden in the voluminous folds.

"I would have liked to have talked to him myself, Master. You told me to wait, and I did. You, however, did not."

"No, I did not." Guilt was not something he often felt as a Jedi. Sorrow, pain, perhaps regret, but not usually guilt, and he found it made him slightly sick to his stomach. "Siri, I am sorry. It was wrong of me, I know. I never meant to hurt you. You must know that."

She turned to face him, mirroring his stance. "I do know, Master. That is why this is difficult." She sighed, blowing a strand of hair away from her face, and tipped her head back, examining the ceiling. "I guess I'm more upset that he likes you more than me—and I didn't expect that." Ah, the flirtatious little imp. Losing out to her master was tough to swallow.

"Pride, Padawan."  

"It's not pride, Master, really. I think I got caught up in his mother's enthusiasm, and I was sure he'd come to me after the negotiations were closed. I was foolish."

"No, not foolish. You didn't know. No one did. That's all. Come here." As she stepped into the circle of his arms, he rested his chin on her head, all at once remembering her as a small girl, how he spent much of his time on his knees in order to make better eye contact. A young adult now, no longer the child, nearly ready to face the world on her own. Her arms slipped around him and they stood for a long moment, resting against each other. Their bond cooled, settling into its normal state.

"Master?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you in love with him?"

Was he? Fine question. Quite possibly, considering the connection forged between. "I'm not sure yet—perhaps. It's a bit too soon to say, really." Although the idea of being partnered with Obi-Wan warmed him pleasantly.

Siri stepped back, and taking his hand, pulled him to the sofa, where he knelt before her. So much like when she was little, only now with creakier knees.

"My master. I would hope that if you do love him, that you find a way to be with him. He seems so alone—and I admit, that's part of what drew me to him. I liked the idea of being needed—not needed to be a rescuer, or to outplot a takeover scheme, but to be needed, as a person, as a woman. None of the other men I've been with ever really needed me, they just wanted me. Obi-Wan needs someone, Master."

"It's not that simple, though, Siri. Obi-Wan comes from a culture of men and women making up a family. It's expected on Tempen, and as they've been isolated from other worlds, homosexuality is unheard of, it seems. I do not fit in here."

"Obi-Wan is strong—he's resisted marriage this long. If he wants to be with you, he'll find a way." She cupped her master's face in her hands, leaning forward to rest her forehead on his. The once tiny hands had grown, now strong and capable, helping him. "If it can't be me, and it obviously cannot, then I am glad it can be you, Master. But I'm not so sure Lady Kenobi will say the same."

Qui-Gon grasped her wrists, giving them an affectionate squeeze before they stood. "I do not look forward to that encounter. You were with her today—any hints?"

"Only that she was very determined to impress me. She wants grandchildren, Master. Obi-Wan is her only child."

"She won't consider Obi-Wan's happiness?"

"Honestly, Master? I think she feels Obi-Wan will become happy once he's married—that a wife is the missing piece."  She kissed her master on the cheek before heading to her room. "We need to get ready—Obi-Wan will be here for us soon."

Qui-Gon nodded, his pulse increasing slightly as he thought of seeing Obi-Wan again. He sent a tentative, tiny nudge of affection into the new bond, chuckling when a confused buzz returned, but he could feel Obi-Wan relaxing a bit as the pain lessened.

It was this bond, this intimate connection, that would be the deciding factor. It could be broken; painfully, but broken. And yet, bonds didn't form without Force intervention.

His room felt lonely; after the joyful, loving warmth of his quarters in La'Lere with Obi-Wan, these now felt stark and cold, and he squashed a tendril of need for Obi-Wan before it reached him. Soon enough, he told himself. Soon enough. Finish the mission first.

*~*~*

Obi-Wan slowly slid into a chair near the fire, resting his head on his hand. Uncomfortable in his own childhood home—he never expected that. His mother fluttered around him, chattering endlessly about Siri, how he should really talk to her more before they left the planet, how beautiful and smart and strong she was.

Beautiful. Strong. Words to describe Qui-Gon. Pain welled in the hollowness inside him. His father knew. How long before his mother knew, as well?

"Obi-Wan, you really should go lay down. Tsk." She lay a hand on his forehead. "No fever."

"I'm just tired, Mother. It was a busy trip."

"Must have been. I've not seen you this out of sorts in years. Are you sure you're all right?" When she moved to open his mouth to examine his throat he swatted at her hand in irritation.

"I'm fine, Mother! Leave me be."

"Leave him be, Minera." Van Kenobi's firm voice caused both his wife and his son to look questioningly at him. "He's not a child."

"Well!" Minera spluttered, sitting suddenly down in her chair. "A fine way to treat your mother, after I—"

"Thank you for laying out my regalia, Mother," Obi-Wan interrupted. "I believe I best be getting dressed now." He dropped a quick kiss on her cheek and as he passed his father he pressed the man's shoulder briefly in thanks. It was time to get out of here before he said things he'd regret later. Duty first.

*~*~*

Qui-Gon felt a tiny rush of blood to his face when he found himself under the admiration of one Obi-Wan Kenobi, those green eyes traveling the length of his body, foot to head. Indeed, he was just as stunned by the appearance of Obi-Wan as he stepped into the room.

The young man was in a full honor regalia kilt, the fabric a wide plaid pattern of reds and greens that highlighted and enhanced the color of his hair and eyes. The ends of his hair lay curled gently against the plaid as it crossed his shoulder like a sash over a white, voluminous shirt and down his back again, held in place by a large hammered gold brooch, an inscription engraved upon it. The kilt ended just at Obi-Wan's knees, followed by soft brown boots. A short ceremonial sword was thrust through the wide brown belt, and Obi-Wan's thumb was hooked at the top of the dark leather.

In a word, he was breathtaking—Queen Suzette and Lady Kenobi had not exaggerated their appreciation of a man in regalia.

"Obi-Wan!" Siri exclaimed, walking slowly around him. "You look—beautiful!"

Flushing beneath the praise, Obi-Wan shifted uneasily on his feet. "You look wonderful yourself, Siri, all in white like that."

"Except my boots." She stuck one foot out playfully, her black boots the only other contrast to the white beyond the black belt.

"Except your boots." Obi-Wan grinned, then turned back to Qui-Gon. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, darting his eyes to Siri and then back again, clearly unsure of how much to say.

"I know, Obi-Wan. It's all right," Siri said, shrewdly intercepting his glance.

"Siri, I'm so sorry…" Obi-Wan stopped, pressing his lips together.

She held both hands up in a halting gesture. "No, no, it's all right, really. I understand." She jerked her head in Qui-Gon's direction. "I hope you find who you're looking for in my master. He can be a stubborn one, though, so mind that." Her quiet acceptance prompted a tiny smile from Obi-Wan, an endearing hitch of one side of his mouth, and he embraced her tightly.

"Thank you," he whispered in her ear. "I hope you find who you're looking for, too. You deserve someone special."

Qui-Gon felt a swell of pride for his padawan as she returned the hug and stepped back, knowing when three was a crowd.

"I think I'll go on ahead. I'll see you in a few minutes." She made sure the door closed fully behind her as she left the two men staring appreciatively at each other.

"You look magnificent," Qui-Gon said, resisting the inappropriate impulse to drag the boy to his bed and rediscover what was beneath that kilt, treaty be damned.

"You look like a god." Obi-Wan stepped closer, reaching up to stroke at the silvering hair lying against the broad warrior shoulder.

"Burien, offering my heart?" Qui-Gon murmured, opening his arms.

"Better than Burien. You're real," Obi-Wan sighed, allowing himself to be folded against Qui-Gon's chest. Qui-Gon bent his head to rest on Obi-Wan's, their bond beating with his pulse.

"As much as I would love to stay here like this, we best be getting on to the supper," he murmured into Obi-Wan's hair, increasingly happy as he felt the slender arms tighten around him, in humorously pouting resistance to the suggestion.

*~*~*

They arrived in a crush of other guests, Qui-Gon allowing Obi-Wan to guide him through the throng to their seats near the head of the table, clear but for a ceremonial scroll and fancy feathered pen. He spotted Siri chatting politely with Lady Minera Kenobi, who was engaged in her regular hand-waving discourse. Siri obviously had not informed her of Obi-Wan's truth, but Van Kenobi's worried face disturbed Qui-Gon. The man was clearly upset.

A bell sounded and conversation quickly dropped to a murmur and then silence, the rustling of skirts and the muted thunking of ceremonial swords against chairs the only sounds as everyone found their seats. A sense of expectancy weighed over the assembled crowd, all looking towards their King and the Jedi for the ceremony to begin.

"Fellow Tempenians," King Lorian began. "It is with a tremendous amount of pleasure and pride that I announce the negotiations between the Republic and Tempen complete."

Cheers and loud applause filled the room until the King waved for quiet again.

"Our most extreme thanks goes to our Republic representatives, Master Qui-Gon Jinn and  Padawan Siri Tachi. Master Jinn and Sir Kenobi were able to settle fears in La'Lere last night, and Royardi and his staff are now preparing for construction of the resort buildings to begin!"

Minera Kenobi blew kisses at her son and applauded wildly, her husband smiling gently. They love him so much, Qui-Gon thought. Cling to that, my Obi-Wan. They love you.

Obi-Wan flushed, bowing slightly, then glanced at Qui-Gon, smiling. Qui-Gon clapped a hand on his shoulder in congratulations.

King Lorian leaned his hands on the table, as if savoring the moment, then took up the pen and signed his name to the agreement with a flourish. Qui-Gon accepted the instrument and signed his own, and once more cheers filled the room.

Outside, two ceremonial torches, once used to alert nearby townships of important news hundreds of years ago, were now lit to announce the signing, and villagers for miles around could know that the accord had been reached. From inside the castle, the facing windows glowed with flame, and the dinner party gasped and murmured at the sight.

"History has been made!" cried King Lorian, raising a glass of wine. "To the Republic!"

"To the Republic!" the diners repeated, and dinner was served.

Amid the clatter of flatware and the happy chatter of many voices, Qui-Gon covertly observed the Kenobi family. Minera spoke closely with her neighbor, another woman with whom she was obviously close friends, and kept casting significant glances at both Obi-Wan and Siri, who were seated on either side of Qui-Gon. Van Kenobi picked at his food, answered his wife perfunctorily, and drank copious amounts of wine. Obi-Wan mirrored his father, only taking in less wine, previous lesson learned.

Siri leaned near. "When is Obi-Wan going to tell the Kenobis?" she asked. "I don't know how much longer I can put Lady Kenobi off—she's implying to people that Obi-Wan and I are practically betrothed!"

"I know—I'm very sorry about that, but it's up to Obi-Wan. If the truth isn't revealed before we leave, then we'll deal with it at that time."

"I hope we won't have to resort to essentially running away, Master."

"Retreat is sometimes the best option, Padawan," he said, but he chuckled to himself; he'd told Obi-Wan earlier on the landing pad that running away solved nothing. Except maybe for saving Siri from an overbearing would-be mother-in-law.

As the guests finished their meals and dessert had been cleared they began to mill about the room, gathering in colorful clumps to chatter and laugh. Obi-Wan disappeared into the kitchens after speaking briefly to the King; he tossed a quick, small smile at Qui-Gon as he left. In the corner a quartet of stringed instruments began to play; King Lorien had informed Qui-Gon that the music was Tempenian folk music, songs of their history and about their gods—mythology at this point in society's evolution, but still thoroughly enjoyed and invoked for ceremonial effect.

Qui-Gon stood alone, a glass of wine in his hand. The music was lovely, and filled him with a peaceful joy; he felt the Living Force in the notes. Closing his eyes, he could envision the scene the music described—a lonely lover, waiting in the dusk.

A sweet tenor voice added to the beauty—and the mournful loneliness became more pronounced with every word sung, the sadness and hope that his lover would soon come to rescue him from his solitude.

Qui-Gon felt the bond flare, then quiver and beat to the music. Opening his eyes, he was graced with a vision of a regaliaed Obi-Wan, singing to him.

To him.

He sent a small tendril of affection carefully back, not wishing to interfere with Obi-Wan's performance, and was rewarded with Obi-Wan singing even more clearly than before.

Siri materialized and took Qui-Gon's arm. He covered her hand with his, grateful for her tact and perception—if it looked like Obi-Wan was directing his music towards her, then Obi-Wan would be safe a little longer from the inevitable pain the truth would cause.

As the last note died away the applause began, quietly and then louder and louder. Obi-Wan bowed graciously and stepped back into the crowd, ostensibly to reach Siri's side. He was intercepted by several young ladies, eager to compliment him and receive a kiss to their hand, a task which he performed politely but persisted in his goal.

"Obi-Wan, that was beautiful," Siri said, allowing him to take her hand as well. "You didn't tell me you could sing."

"Thank you. It's not something I do often, but Queen Suzzette requested it." He turned to smile up at Qui-Gon, but before he could say a word he was nearly knocked off his feet.

"Obi-Wan, darling, I have never heard you sing so beautifully. It truly broke my heart; you know how I adore that song. Siri, weren't you just swept away? Oh, I can see you were, you have that lovely romantic look about you. Obi-Wan, why don't you ask Siri to dance?" Lady Kenobi nudged him closer to Siri, who still clung resolutely to her master's arm.

"Mother," Obi-Wan began, before a rollicking, jovial tune from the quartet interrupted him.

"Oh, and they are playing a reel! Obi-Wan, do go out and dance. Your regalia was meant to be danced in!"

"No, Mother, I don't feel like dancing now. I wish to talk with Master Jinn and Siri."

"Obi-Wan, don't be rude. Ask Siri to dance. Siri, you wish to dance, don't you?" Minera turned to Siri; she seemed nearly desperate, as if this dance were the most important event in her life. Siri opened her mouth to speak but an angry Obi-Wan interrupted.

"No! Mother, stop this. Listen to me. I am not interested in Siri. That's the truth. I'm not. Please stop pushing us together, please stop making your plans, please stop interfering with my life! Just STOP!"

Lady Kenobi stepped back in shock, a hand on her breast. "Obi-Wan! Why, I never…"

"That's right—you never. You never ask me what I want. You never ask me who I am interested in. You never let me make my own decisions without questioning every move or examining it to see if it will fit into your expectations. Do you want to know who I am interested in? Do you?"

Qui-Gon dampened the bond between them out of self-defense. Obi-Wan was beyond upset; he was absolutely livid and the anger poured across, searching for any outlet. The gently restraining hand Qui-Gon placed on Obi-Wan's arm was shrugged off without even recognizing who had touched him.

Qui-Gon's sense of Jedi duty overrode his initial worry for Obi-Wan's state of mind. While the paper had been signed, it was but a formality and could just as easily be torn up by an angry King. A quick perusal of the room revealed that more and more people were becoming aware of the elevated voices, the chattering and dancing beginning to slow and stop as the partygoers focused on the King's First and his mother, including the King himself. As he and his wife made their way to them, Qui-Gon glanced at the King's study door in the corner of the room, ready to sweep them all in to protect Obi-Wan and his family from the very public stares.

"Why—I— yes, of course, my son. Who is the lady?" an absolutely stunned Minera Kenobi stuttered, glancing around at the gathering guests as Van Kenobi came to put his arm around her shaking shoulders, sadly looking at the floor and not at his only child, waiting for the verbal blow.

"Yes, who, Obi-Wan, that she requires such a spectacle?" King Royardi asked angrily.

Obi-Wan turned to his King. "There is no lady." Obi-Wan gave a moment of desperate attention to Qui-Gon, who heard the silent plea to allow him to tell the truth, exposing them both.

"Obi-Wan, perhaps we should take this elsewhere," Qui-Gon said to him, sending a significant glance in the direction of King Lorian.

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and shook his head. "No. I'm done hiding, living a lie."

His eyes darted about the room, as if weighing each curious and judgmental gaze that was returned, contrasting them with the pain and longing in his heart. Then he spoke—quietly, and with conviction.

"Your Majesty, Mother, Father—I choose to explore my interest in Qui-Gon Jinn."

*~*~*

There was a collective gasp, followed by a shocked silence. Crackles and pops from the fireplace became the only sound in the room as everyone absorbed the implication of Obi-Wan's words. Then the buzzing began.

Minera Kenobi had taken two full steps back from her son, pulling her husband with her. Her mouth hung open in disbelief and confusion. Never in his life had Obi-Wan truly seen his mother at a loss for words.

He, however, felt an odd sense of lightness. A burden gone, a secret revealed. Freedom.

Anxiety rebuilt as he heard the murmurs become more distinct. "Another man?" "…old man…" "…always thought he was a bit off…" "…what the Jedi bring?" "…poor Minera, she was so set on the young lady Jedi…" "…do you think they'll do?"

King Lorian suddenly took Obi-Wan by the arm and motioned for Lord and Lady Kenobi and the Jedi to follow him into his study, away from the crowd. Siri quickly moved ahead of them all and opened the door. The noise grew louder the further they walked, until a firm closing and locking of the heavy door finally muted it.

Queen Suzzette was waiting with a glass of cool water for Minera. She assisted Minera to the sofa and encouraged her to sip, patting her hand.

In contrast to the jumbled excitement left behind the door only moments before, Obi-Wan now felt the heavy weight of judgment as the silence of the room pressed on him. "Your Grace…"

The King sharply waved one hand at Obi-Wan for silence. Obi-Wan dropped to one knee respectfully, his sword thudding loudly on the polished floor. He bowed his head. He was being treated formally, after such indulgent familiarity. He tried to recall the lightness, that sweet, brief float of freedom.

"Obi-Wan, how could you?" Obi-Wan finally heard his mother whisper, quavering. "How could you say such things to all of us, and in public like this?"

"Speak, Sir Kenobi," ordered the King.

Obi-Wan raised his head. "I am sorry for where and when it was said, Mother. I had intended to tell you in private, but you kept… However, I am not sorry for what I said. It's the truth."

"Master Jinn? Perhaps you could explain your involvement in this…?" King Lorian asked, sinking into a chair near his desk.

Obi-Wan watched the red liquid in Qui-Gon's glass barely move as the Jedi came to stand behind him. He was so graceful, so beautiful. And Obi-Wan had embarrassed him in front of the King, forcing Qui-Gon to allow him to reveal their secret. Oh, gods, and what of the treaty? Would the King renege on this now that the truth was revealed?

"Your Majesty, there are some things that are a matter of privacy between Obi-Wan and myself; however, I will admit that I am more than merely attracted to him." Qui-Gon was quiet but firm, confident in his statement, and Obi-Wan gathered courage from the strong hand that came to settle on the back of his neck.

"What have you done to my son?" The water glass crashed to the floor, Minera Kenobi suddenly on her feet and advancing on the Jedi. "Is this some sort of Jedi mind game?" She swung wildly at Qui-Gon, knocking the wine glass out of his hand and sending it smashing into the wall. Red liquid trickled down the brocade paper.

Like blood, Obi-Wan thought in dazed observance. Qui-Gon's blood, at the hand of my mother.

Siri stepped in, trying to calm the woman down, but Minera turned on Siri, too. "You liar! You said you wanted Obi-Wan, you said you did, and you KNEW!"

"No, milady, I didn't know until just this afternoon, really. I—"

"Filthy, horrible, disgusting…" Lady Kenobi continued her raging, oblivious to the others around her. Obi-Wan felt every hateful word, striking him as surely as physical blows.

She slapped him, and Obi-Wan reeled back in surprise. Fists pounded against shoulders. Hands that once soothed him now punished him. He threw up his arms to deflect the relentless strikes and hide her enraged face from his sight.

"Lady Kenobi! Control yourself!" the King shouted.

Minera collapsed to her knees, crying. Qui-Gon reached for Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan shook his head as he stared at the crumbling woman. How badly I've hurt her, he thought. How could I, indeed?

He knelt once again and reached to take her hands in his. "Mother, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" She grasped them tightly, tucking them against her as she pressed her face against him, shuddering. Siri carefully helped Queen Suzzette pick up broken pieces of glass while Van Kenobi sat on the sofa, his head in his hands. King Lorian focused a hard look on Qui-Gon that held many unasked questions.

Unasked for now, Obi-Wan thought. Would Tempen now pay for his impetuousness?

Minera raised her head, having composed herself into a more placid state.

"Obi-Wan, let's go home. We'll talk to the doctor, and get you checked out, make sure this man hasn't harmed you."

"Mother, Qui-Gon hasn't hurt me, not in the least."

"You still defend him, after all the trouble he has caused here tonight?" She jerked back in horror. "You listen to me, now, Obi-Wan. This was all a mistake. With your permission, Your Grace," she looked to the King briefly, who nodded his assent, "we'll go home, and sleep, and tomorrow it will be all over and we can get back to our lives. The Jedi will leave as scheduled and we can forget they were ever here."

"No, Mother. I can't do that."

"Why not?" she asked. "We can—"

"Mother. LISTEN TO ME. I want to be with Qui-Gon."

Minera began to shake again. "Obi-Wan, that is so…wrong."

"No, Mother, I don't think it is." He stood then, stepping back next to Qui-Gon, whose compassion for the broken woman was evident. "It's not wrong to love."

"Master Jedi, what is it you've brought to us?" Queen Suzzette interjected softly, taking her husband's hand. "Is this what Jedi do together?"

"Your Highness, with respect, men loving other men are not uncommon in the Galaxy. Or women loving other women."

At this, the Queen blushed, but nodded her head in thanks. "I see that we still have much to learn."

"Master Jinn, we most certainly need to speak—in private," the King added, fixing another stony glare on Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan thought again of the treaty. Had he ruined it for them all? What of Qui-Gon—what words would he have for Obi-Wan?

"Of course, Your Majesty. My padawan and I are at your service," Qui-Gon replied, bowing, Siri following suit.

"Minera." Van Kenobi's voice was trembling but brave. He rose to stand behind her, gripping her arms. "You have to let this go. You have to let Obi-Wan go."

"The shame you both lay on me." Her voice was accusing, but quiet and controlled. "In front of our friends and our King. I wonder if your Jedi is really so interested in you now, Obi-Wan. Perhaps he's enjoying watching you make fools of us all." She shot a glare at Qui-Gon but only received a sympathetic look back.

"Mother, please—he's the one I've been waiting for—and he's been waiting for me. I need to find out." Obi-Wan felt like he was eight years old again, wheedling his mother for a new lens for his telescope.

"Obi-Wan," she began, reschooling her features into a tearful mother's loving gaze. "I understand that you're feeling lost, alone, and here is someone from far away, from the stars you love so, feeding your fantasies."

Obi-Wan felt pain then, deep in his heart. "If that were the case, I could be taking up with Siri—but I'm not. Please…please, Mother."

Anger creased her face. "I have to let you go, is that it, then? Just let you go? Fine. I'll let you go."

She stalked closer to Obi-Wan until they were standing face to face. "You are not my son."

And then, she turned her back, and dropping a short curtsey to the King and Queen, she opened the side door and swept out, leaving them all behind.

*~*~*

Qui-Gon grabbed Obi-Wan by the arm as he swayed. White-faced, he stared with empty eyes.

"Father?" he finally whispered. Qui-Gon led him to the sofa where Van Kenobi sat beside his son, taking a hand in his.

"I'm sure she's only upset, Obi-Wan. Give her a bit of time to let this—news—sink in."

Obi-Wan nodded numbly, taking the glass of water Siri handed him and sipping a tiny amount.

"Obi-Wan, perhaps you should go lie down," Queen Suzzette suggested gently.

"I do feel a bit ill," he answered. "With your leave, Your Highness, I think I shall. Would you come with me, please?" he asked Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon looked to the King first. "Return and speak with me here in one hour, Master Jinn," instructed the King. Qui-Gon bowed his assent and turned back to Obi-Wan.

"I'll walk with you," Van Kenobi volunteered, giving a short bow to King Lorian, and together the men hauled Obi-Wan to his feet and steered him out the same door Minera had used. They left away from the crowd, leaving a determined Siri, an angry King and an embarrassed, but thoughtful Queen to settle their still-gossiping guests.

Obi-Wan was silent during the trip, and Qui-Gon unmuffled his end of the bond to better assess the boy's state of mind. He was in pain; the bond was dark with unshed tears.

"Obi-Wan?" Van Kenobi knelt before his son, once the boy was seated dejectedly on the edge of his bed. "Obi-Wan, I only want for you to be happy, I truly do. But are you sure this is the way to achieve that?"

Obi-Wan stared at his father dully. "Father, if you only knew how I feel when I'm with Qui-Gon. When I watched my friends all marry, and be so happy—that's what I wanted. I never felt that spark. Never—until now. NOW I feel it, Father. Now I feel all jumbled inside, a happy jumble. When I sleep, I dream of him. When I'm awake, I can't wait to see him."

Obi-Wan stretched his hand towards Qui-Gon, who stepped forward to take it within his own.

"Qui-Gon makes me happy, Father. I'm not out to make Mother unhappy, or upset the balance of life as usual on Tempen—but am I to live my life the way she wants me to, or am I to live it the way I want it? The way I need it?"

Van Kenobi slowly rose to his feet, sighing. "No, Obi-Wan, of course not. I want for you to make your own choices. Just understand—when you make those choices, you also have to live with whatever consequences result—be they good or bad. Master Jinn," he said, and Qui-Gon could hear the resignation in his voice, "do not hurt him. I will speak to Minera and try to get her to understand, for I understand your choices better than either of you truly realize."

He moved to leave, but Obi-Wan stood to stop him, enveloping him in a hug. "Thank you, Father," he whispered. "Thank you."

As Van left, he dropped one hand on Qui-Gon's arm in a conciliatory manner, pausing briefly without meeting his eyes, and then closed the door quietly behind him.

"What did he mean, he understands better than we realize?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon nodded and steered Obi-Wan back towards the bed. "I have my suspicions, but we can talk about that later. Right now you need to lie down."  He knelt and removed the sword and belt, the sash, and boots, massaging Obi-Wan's feet once they were free. "Feeling better?"

Obi-Wan lay back against the pillows, remembering the last time Qui-Gon had been at his bedside in this room. "Yes." His hand reached up to touch Qui-Gon's cheek, then curled around his neck to pull him down. "I can't get her face out of my mind. Make me forget. Come lie with me. Touch me. I need for you to touch me. Now."

Qui-Gon bent closer, caressing Obi-Wan's mouth briefly. "Obi-Wan," he began, but Obi-Wan covered his mouth with his own, tongue seeking entrance hungrily, fingers tugging at Qui-Gon's tunics.

Qui-Gon pulled back, catching Obi-Wan's wrists. "Wait, Obi-Wan. We need to talk a bit, you and I."

Obi-Wan raised himself up on his elbows, his face coming very close to Qui-Gon's as he rested his forearms on the bed. "That doesn't sound very encouraging," he said, worry once again casting a cloud over his face. "Is it about the treaty? Have I ruined this?"

Qui-Gon kissed him softly, pushing him gently back down. "No, no. I will speak to King Lorian later; I think I can salvage Tempen and the Republic. Right now I need to tell you about something that you aren't aware of yet."

Obi-Wan lay back obediently, waiting. He looked so lovely there, his auburn hair splayed against the white pillow, his hands clasped over his stomach, his knees peeking out from beneath the edge of the kilt.

"Remember I told you about the Force, and how it lives in all things in some measure?"

"Yes. You were going to test me, if I recall correctly." A ghost of a smile flashed for a second.

"Are you aware of what a Force-bond is?"

Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. "No."

Qui-Gon rose to sit on the bed, placing one hand on the other side of Obi-Wan's thigh. The wool of the kilt scratched lightly at his wrist. "The Force can create intimate connections between two people. Siri and I have one, a training bond. I can sense when she is in danger, in distress, upset or happy, worried or confused. I can also sense if she's injured or unconscious, and sometimes, with effort, we can communicate telepathically. She can also sense these things from me."

Obi-Wan flushed suddenly. "Did she—sense—us last night?"

Qui-Gon chuckled. "No—distance plays a part, and I had muted it anyway. I was trying to cloak my feelings for you as much as allowing her some autonomy while we were gone. If I had been in danger, she would have been able to sense that, but nothing else."

"Oh. Good. I'm not sure I could look her in the eye again if she'd known," Obi-Wan laughed nervously. "But what has this to do with me, beyond the hiding your feelings part?"

"Do you recall being at your parents' home, after Siri and I left—a moment where you felt a surge of happiness, of feeling good? And you were confused by it?"

Realization dawned. "Yes. It seemed to come at just the right time—I had just left my mother to get dressed and was obviously not in the best of moods. My father—he had told me in the study that he'd seen you and I at the landing pad, and I was worried about how to tell Mother."

Qui-Gon nodded. "That was me you felt—I had sent a tiny bit of myself across the bond—our bond. You've sent feelings to me without realizing it, too. You thought of me and had an emotional response, and I received it."

"Our bond?" Obi-Wan pushed himself up to sit back against the headboard, and away from Qui-Gon, apprehension clouding his features. "How long have we had this?"

"Almost from the first. I didn't recognize it at once—I've never been Force-bonded with another person outside of training bonds."

A long silence stretched between them. Qui-Gon began to worry that this bit of news was not being received well, and he was right. "I rather feel like I've been spied on," Obi-Wan said finally. "I wanted to be with you, to make my own decisions, and you tell me that the  —the Force—decided FOR me? And that you've been aware of me—and what I've been thinking and feeling since we MET? What the hells?"

Obi-Wan angrily bounced from the bed, grabbing his boots and pulling them on, nearly falling over as he lost his balance in his haste. "I can't believe this. This night is beyond anything I could have ever imagined happening in my lifetime. I need to think." Grabbing his cloak, he stormed out of the room, leaving a stunned Qui-Gon in his wake.

Well, he thought, he does take after his mother there.

*~*~*

Obi-Wan moved through the palace blindly, not caring where he turned or where he ended up, brushing past wandering party guests who moved quickly out of his way and then bent close together in whispers.

After some time he found himself in the garden courtyard. The flowers had all closed their blooms for the night, but small fairy lights had been strung along the walkways, giving the impression of tiny white blossoms throughout. The vine above the lover's bench was decorated thus, and on the bench sat Siri, staring up into the night sky. She stood to greet him as Obi-Wan approached carefully.

"Obi-Wan? Are you feeling better? King Lorian dismissed me until he and Master are to meet. Where is Master Jinn?"

"May I sit with you?" he asked her, relieved when she nodded her assent. "I left Qui-Gon in my room. Siri, may I ask you some questions?"

She looked bewildered, but agreed. "Certainly."

"What's a Force-bond?"

Siri blinked. "A Force-bond? It's when the Force recognizes that two beings are meant to be together and binds them mentally, and then the two persons reinforce it physically. Basically, it's the Force's way of saying, these two were meant for each other in this lifetime. Why?"

Obi-Wan leaned his head back against the edge of the bench, staring into the fairy lights and to the constellations beyond. "Qui-Gon says that he and I have one."

Siri gasped in delight. "Oh, Obi-Wan, that's marvelous! No wonder he was so attracted to you. Oh…Obi-Wan, what's the matter?"

"I feel like he's been spying on me all this time! Like my thoughts weren't my own—that he knew everything I was feeling and thinking! I'm a private person, Siri. I've had to learn to keep so much of myself secret that the idea of having someone—"

"Woah, woah. Hold on, Obi-Wan. I think you misunderstand this a bit." She took his hand into hers and he allowed it, breathing in deeply through his nose, exhaling slowly out his mouth, just as Qui-Gon had taught him. "Bonds like these are emotional, but they can be controlled. He doesn't know what you're thinking—only what you're feeling. With some practice you'll be able to control what comes and goes on it—but truly, Obi-Wan, being Force-bonded is considered a very grand honor in the Republic. While not rare, they aren't all that usual, either."

"They're not?" he asked wearily. "Oh, Siri. I don't know what to do. I feel like I've been pulled in every direction tonight."

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice was hushed, but calm. Obi-Wan tightened his hold on Siri's hand as he watched the man approach in the darkness, his Jedi whites glowing. "Obi-Wan, I'm sorry. I never meant to distress you—I had hoped to reassure you that no matter what happens with your family, I'll be here for you. We're bound together, you and I. I had hoped it would be a comfort." Once again, he knelt, and Obi-Wan vaguely wondered if his knees ever got tired of that. "The bond can be broken. It is painful, both emotionally and physically, but it can be done. If you truly do not wish this, then I will endeavor to break it. You have only to ask."

The pain in those deep blue eyes broke Obi-Wan's heart. Why, why did all this have to happen at once? Tired. He was so tired. He only wanted to rest, and not have to think.

And yet, here it was—something to cling to, someone to hold, and to be held by. Someone to love him unconditionally—to love him enough to break a bond, to leave him behind, if that was what he truly wanted.

Love is never selfish, he recalled, a memory of lessons teaching the wisdom of the gods. Burien offered his heart to Herath selflessly, willing to lay down his very life for her.

Qui-Gon was offering to share his life with him. Could he truly walk away from his heart's desire?

No, he realized. No, I cannot. He has been waiting for me.

For me.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and blindly, but cautiously, reached…

*~*~*

In this odd, dark place he could see the bond that connected him to Qui-Gon. The space between them felt hollow, empty, as if waiting for a dam to break and something to fill it up. He recognized the space as himself, waiting to be fulfilled. The presence at the other end of the bright blue bond echoed a rhythm—love, hope, contriteness—all pulsing, waiting for him to accept them into his mind, to breach the dam.

He felt as if he had been waiting there forever, for far too long, and he gave himself up, offered his emptiness, feeling Qui-Gon's soul fill him, lift him, love him. Love him. Bluer than blue, warm, and home.

He opened his eyes to find himself in Qui-Gon's arms, that his own arms were wrapped tightly around Qui-Gon, and that Siri had discreetly left them alone.

"I'm sorry," Qui-Gon was murmuring against his hair. "I'm sorry."

"No," Obi-Wan whispered, raising his head to capture Qui-Gon's eyes. "I'm sorry. I was frightened. Siri explained—and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have doubted you." He hesitated, then continued. "I saw the bond. It's beautiful. And very blue."

The corners of Qui-Gon's eyes crinkled as a smile spread across his face, and Obi-Wan willingly accepted the kiss his lover bent to offer.

This is where I belong, he thought. I am a Tempenian. I am my father's son. And I belong with this man.

*~*~*

At the appointed time, Qui-Gon and Siri entered the King's study, leaving Obi-Wan to wait alone in the gardens for their return. King Lorian was staring at his datascreen, absorbed in whatever information was displayed there. He briefly acknowledged them, then left them to stand for several minutes as he tapped away on the keyboard.

When Queen Suzzette entered, King Lorian addressed the Jedi.

"I have been accessing more of the information you provided for us back when we began our talks about joining the Republic, Master Jinn," he said, pushing himself up from his chair. "I obviously did not read everything. I was not aware that sexual deviation was so prevalent."

Qui-Gon opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced by King Lorian's upright hand.

"And I would be talking things over with my First, were he available to me."

"Your Majesty. Please allow me to apologize—I did not come to Tempen expecting to fall in love. It was a surprise to me. However, I don't see how the relationship between Obi-Wan and myself should affect Republic inclusion—"

"Master Jinn  —you have embarrassed me in front of my people. We trusted you, and you bring us this!" King Lorian shoved his chair back and began pacing behind his desk.

"Master Jedi, please understand. You've shocked us all and we're nervous now." Queen Suzzette's quiet voice calmed the King slightly, but Qui-Gon knew they were far from done.

"I do understand, Your Highness. Please allow me to reassure you, the Republic is about the encompassing good we can all do for each other. Fey men and women are simply citizens of the Galaxy, trying to live their lives just as you do."

The Queen seemed baffled. "But, Master Jinn, men with men? Men are to be with women—it's the natural order of things. Without a man, a woman cannot bear children!"

Qui-Gon cleared his throat and felt Siri begin to simmer slightly behind him. "Yes, that is true—procreation requires one female and one male to create new life. However, could it not be thought that perhaps homosexuality is a form of population control? The desire to couple is present, and can be met, but no children result."

"And do fey people not wish to have children, Master Jinn?" the Queen asked.

"On the contrary, many do, and adoption of orphans or of children from families who find they cannot care adequately for them is common. We prefer to view it as a way for more children to be cared for without adding too many to any particular planet's burden of resources."

"And you, Master Jinn? Will you be adopting any children?" the King asked, not placated as yet.

Qui-Gon turned to his Padawan, drawing her forward. "The Jedi already raise children, Your Majesty. Siri is like my own." At that, Siri glanced up at her master, smiling warmly as he squeezed her shoulder.

"And she has been raised well, Master Jinn," replied the Queen, her gentle gaze settling on Siri. Siri bowed in return.

"And Obi-Wan? What of him? No woman on Tempen will want him now. I have had nearly every person at this party express their horror and—and revulsion—already this evening! Tempenian citizens are outraged at the thought of two men together, and they are looking at me askance as he is my First!" He stopped a moment, then continued in a calmer tone. "That, however, will fade…I am not so concerned. A new First will solve it, and a new First I will find. But what of young Obi-Wan, Master Jinn? He is ruined."

Ah, thought Qui-Gon. It comes back to Obi-Wan. It's not so much they are worried about a Galaxy full of fey folk, but rather that they love Obi-Wan.

"Your Majesty, Obi-Wan is—special. He already possesses a part of me, and I, a part of him. It was not our intent to become so involved—it happened, and I believe the Force guided us together at this particular time." He paused at the Queen's questioning look. "This is my final mission; it marks my retirement from active duty. Therefore, I will be there for Obi-Wan should he choose to return to Coruscant with me, and together we will make a life for ourselves. I will care for him, I promise."

A knock at the door interrupted this explanation, and the object of Qui-Gon's desire entered, immediately dropping to one knee in contrition before his King. "If I may, Your Majesty? I want to explain myself—this isn't Qui-Gon's fault."

"You may rise. We were just discussing you, Obi-Wan. Master Jinn says that his 'Force' guided the two of you together."

Obi-Wan rose and stood beside Qui-Gon. "Something brought us together. I've never felt anything like I feel when I'm with him. And there is a bond between us—I've seen it now. I was frightened by it at first—but the thought of breaking it is so painful—I don't wish to lose Qui-Gon, Your Majesty."

King Lorian winced at that statement, but nodded. "And what of Tempen? What shall we do here with regard to joining this Republic? Your Jedi friend here has embarrassed us all."

Obi-Wan glanced at Qui-Gon before stepping forward, closer to his King. "No, Your Majesty. I embarrassed you. I am the one who revealed our secret, not Qui-Gon. He, and Siri, are two of the most discreet and honest people I have ever met. The Jedi are honorable, and truthful, and are here to help. Our love—" He stopped and looked down at his hands for a moment. "It's the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me."

Qui-Gon felt the bond warm within him, and he sent a pulse of affection back through. And you are the best thing that has happened to me, he thought.

"But as for Tempen—Your Majesty, I see no reason that we should renege on our agreement. The galaxy is wide, and there will be so much for us to learn. Don't deny the rest of Tempen the opportunity to partake of it because of my actions, I beg you." Obi-Wan once again dropped to his knee, turning his head to appeal to the Queen, knowing her influence with the King, knowing the silent strength she offered, knowing she understood the power of love.

"I agree, dear," she interjected, still holding Obi-Wan's gaze. "Let us speak together."

"May I join you? Perhaps I can answer your questions, Your Majesty," Siri offered.

King Lorian nodded sharply, jaw clenching. "Very well. I shall inform you of my final decision later. You may go." He dismissed Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan with a flap of his hand and turned his back on them.

"Your Majesty," Qui-Gon murmured, bowing to the Queen, who smiled reassuringly, and to the unseeing King. He directed an encouraging nod to Siri and she returned it, confident in her ability to guide the King back to sense. Obi-Wan followed suit in his protocols, and the two men shut the door quietly behind them.

The hall stood empty, silent in contrast to the raucous party only a short time before. The revelers had left, no doubt shaking their heads and whispering over the events.

Obi-Wan walked to a window, staring out over the dark grounds of the palace. "Qui-Gon, do you think he'll refuse the Republic?"

Qui-Gon moved to stand behind the young man, arms ensconced in cloak sleeves. "I hope not, Obi-Wan. Siri will tell him anything he needs to know to decide. She will show him we are not a true oddity."

Obi-Wan smiled slightly, then turned and pressed his face against Qui-Gon's chest, his arms slipping around the big, solid body that meant home to him. "We are just us."

Qui-Gon returned the hug, one part of his mind loving Obi-Wan for standing on his convictions, another part feeling out Siri and her work within the King's chamber.

*~*~*

Two men stood facing each other. Outside the midnight was black and cool. Inside this room a fire burned. A bed waited. Incense smoked. Wine was poured. Warmed oil in ornate glass bottles stood on the bedside table.

He had purified himself in the manner of his people on their wedding nights, even though there would be no traditional Tempenian wedding night for him. This was as close as he would get, but it was what he wanted—to give himself to the man he'd waited for all his life. His father was not there to assist in the preparations, no words of advice for how to care for his virgin bride. His mother was not there with misty eyes, kissing her boy farewell before he returned in the morning a man. He was alone.

Now he stood, scrubbed and fresh, dressed only in a simple white robe, recounting in his mind how Qui-Gon had explained sex between men. Obi-Wan had nervously questioned him at length, and Qui-Gon reassured him patiently and lovingly that anal penetration was not necessary but could be quite pleasurable if time was taken to prepare. Anal sex was not a common act among Tempenians—rare was the couple who would admit to such a thing, but Obi-Wan was willing to try. He chuckled quietly to himself, wondering if this was how a woman felt on her wedding night, this mix of love, curiosity, and fear.

Qui-Gon had prepared himself as Obi-Wan had, following Obi-Wan's shy instruction in water and oils, method and ritual, and now waited for Obi-Wan to begin.

With a shaky breath and a small smile, Obi-Wan stepped forward with a cup of wine. He held it in trembling hands as Qui-Gon sipped from it, then sipped from it himself. He set the cup back on the table as Qui-Gon repeated the act with the second cup, and Obi-Wan noted with some dazed amazement that Qui-Gon's hands were trembling, too.

Obi-Wan memorized Qui-Gon's face—every line, every white and brown whisker in the beard, every eyelash and the arch of brow. He is so beautiful, he thought. So beautiful, and it's me he wants. Me.

The wine dulled any apprehension Obi-Wan felt as Qui-Gon gently tugged at the ties holding his robe closed, but he began to shiver. Soothing hands and lips murmuring reassurances warmed him as the robe slid to crumple on the floor, and he was led to lie on the bed, made up all in white.

Obi-Wan lay back against the cool pillows, submitting. As he had no experience of penetration, and certainly not with another man, he had asked Qui-Gon to show him what to do, after teaching Qui-Gon the traditional words of consummation, as spoken in the long-dead language of the Tempenian people, now only used for ceremonies such as these.

Qui-Gon leaned down to kiss him, a soft brushing of lips and caress of hair that relaxed him even as it aroused him. Qui-Gon slowly removed his own robe, Obi-Wan's hands reaching to help.

 

"Hir elith ondo li daliji quth Herath elgar somnyri, birath togelir hylio amyrini mora mentari."

 

We sit in the palm of Herath this night, brought together by love and commitment.

Qui-Gon straddled Obi-Wan's legs with his own, filled his palm with oil and began to massage it tenderly into Obi-Wan's skin, beginning on his chest, above his heart. He left lingering kisses as he worked the oil, and Obi-Wan felt himself melt under the gentle ministrations.

"A terth ondo ecea amyri." _I trust in your heart._ Obi-Wan translated the ancient words, rolling them around on his tongue as he whispered them back to the man above him.

Qui-Gon moved his hands steadily down, massaging Obi-Wan's torso, until he reached the tops of his thighs.

"Terth ondo nea." _Trust in me._

He gently helped Obi-Wan to turn over, face-down and vulnerable, his hands tucked beneath his head, and began again, rolling the muscles of Obi-Wan's shoulders and arms between his fingers, slow, deep massages to Obi-Wan's back down to his buttocks, scattering kisses across his neck and back as he worked, and Obi-Wan sighed as his muscles pleasantly turned to rubber. He felt warm, loved, treasured, all the things he'd dreamed of—someday. Someday was today.

"A junreth amyrini cea." _I will love you._

One finger slid down the cleft of Obi-Wan's buttocks, the other hand resting in calm reassurance on the small of the young man's back when he startled.

"Terth ondo nea." _Trust in me._

I trust you, he thought, sending a pulse across the bond. It bloomed suddenly, blue and green, opening like the petals of the rarest rose ever seen. Qui-Gon had been waiting, ever patient, for Obi-Wan to open it up and let him in, and Obi-Wan now felt the filling of his soul again, the full embrace of Qui-Gon's promised love. The ancient words held such deeper meaning as Qui-Gon said them again—as if he'd created them for this moment himself.

"Terth ondo nea." _Trust in me._

The simple phrase resonated and grew, and Obi-Wan could feel the bond keeping beat with his own heart, pounding in his ears, growing to close the space still between them. He felt lightweight and floating, a combination of alcohol and massage, and the overwhelming abundance of love from the man he had waited for.

Hot kisses rained on his buttocks. He felt them parted, and something warm and wet circled his opening, then gently thrust inside. He moaned then, and the warmth withdrew, to be replaced by a slick finger. It felt strange, and foreign, but not unpleasant. Qui-Gon had explained what he would do, and why, before they had begun this final journey.

The finger withdrew, and then two—turning gently, stretching him open. This was more uncomfortable, and he tensed, fisting the sheets.

"Obi-Wan, relax. Tell me if I truly hurt you." A kiss pressed to the small of his back, and then three fingers, twisting and turning. "Terth ondo nea."

And then a wave of pleasure in the midst of the mild pain. He gasped, and heard Qui-Gon chuckle.

"Oh, do that again," Obi-Wan moaned, and Qui-Gon complied, rewarded with another, longer moan, then he turned Obi-Wan to his back once more, capturing his lips with his own, reaching down to stroke Obi-Wan's arousal with gentle fingers.

"Will you prepare me now?" Qui-Gon asked huskily against Obi-Wan's mouth, licking lightly.

Obi-Wan threaded his fingers through Qui-Gon's hair, pulling him close for a deeper kiss, tongues twining and thrusting together. Obi-Wan had a brief flash of memory of their last coupling, grinding together for mutual gratification.

He pushed Qui-Gon back to sit on his heels, running his hands across the broad chest, fingertips brushing rosy nipples. He stroked down Qui-Gon's flanks until his hands rested on the man's hips, bracketing the long, heavy erection that waited for him there. He closed his eyes and brushed his cheek against it, breathing in the heady scent of musk and aroused male.

Ignoring his own erection bumping against his belly, he filled his hand with warm oil, rubbing his palms together to slick them.

He wrapped one hand around the base of Qui-Gon's cock, then the other directly above it, and as he gently twisted them to spread the oil, he took the head into his mouth, flicking at the slit with his tongue before closing his lips and sucking.

Qui-Gon bucked once, rising up from his heels to his knees, grasping Obi-Wan's head in his hands. "By the gods," he gasped, and Obi-Wan smiled around the hard cock in his mouth. Up and down, up and down, his hands were relentless and his lips and tongue teasing. When Qui-Gon's breathing became labored and ragged, he withdrew, and lay back against the pillows, dropping his knees wide and opening himself to Qui-Gon.

"I think I'm ready, Master," he said, reaching one hand for him.

Qui-Gon smiled at his use of the honorific. Obi-Wan offered it in loving tribute to Qui-Gon's experience in contrast to his own sexual innocence.

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand, entwining their fingers together. He leaned between Obi-Wan's knees to kiss him, the head of his cock resting against Obi-Wan's opening, and Obi-Wan took a deep breath.

"A, Qui-Gon, untirith cea, Obi-Wan…" _I, Qui-Gon, take you, Obi-Wan…_

He slowly pushed in, and Obi-Wan found himself fascinated by the changing expressions on Qui-Gon's face as his cock became surrounded by Obi-Wan's body, his body, stretched and pulled in a way it had never been before. The sense of being filled this way was confusing and odd and not a little frightening, but he did not resist. He sucked in a sharp breath as pain wavered through him and he closed his eyes against it. This is Qui-Gon, this is how we become one, he thought. The joy outweighs the pain.

"Obi-Wan, look at me. Look at me, and breathe," Qui-Gon commanded softly. Obi-Wan obeyed, focusing on the deep blue eyes above him, pulling his knees higher to open himself wider.

"Akiro dith enea piri, ondo amyrini mora ondo illithi…" _To be my partner, in love and in life…_

Push… and the bond pulsed.

"Iso A keleith ecea undimi, cea keleith enea soliri… "_ As I enter your body, you enter my soul…_

Push… and the bond swelled.

"Mora hir dithena undari. Undaris amyri, undaris amyrini, undaris auri."

_And we become one. One heart, one love, one light._

Qui-Gon's voice cracked, and Obi-Wan whispered his responses. Obi-Wan's body was bent nearly in half, and Qui-Gon's face was so very close, sheened with sweat, and they were both panting lightly. I have this man inside me, Obi-Wan thought. And it feels so perfectly right. And good.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked hoarsely.

Obi-Wan pushed sweaty hair from Qui-Gon's face, his eyes focusing on Qui-Gon's, dark with need. "Move," he whispered.

Qui-Gon kissed him, long and sweet, before he drew slowly out, then pushed in again, a slow rhythm that built up speed. Mentally they reached for each other from their own ends of their shared bond, speaking without words, touching without form.

Obi-Wan grasped Qui-Gon's forearms as they strained on either side of him, and found himself pushing back, driving himself onto Qui-Gon's cock with every thrust. All at once, Qui-Gon changed the angle of his thrust and struck that pleasure spot he had found with his fingers.

"Ahhh!" Obi-Wan cried. "Oh, gods, oh Herath, oh gods…" His mental view of their link saw it convulse and grow. His hand found his needy cock, clumsily pumping it in time with Qui-Gon, who wrapped his fingers around Obi-Wan's and stroked with him, and stroked the bond, faster and faster until Obi-Wan cried out and bucked beneath him, the fierce intensity of his orgasm leaving him faint, but Qui-Gon held him up through their bond, focused him, until Qui-Gon let out a long, protracted groan, his cock pulsing inside Obi-Wan, and finally collapsed on him.

The Force-bond grew to a brilliant blue-green light, which shattered into a million sparks as both ends of the bond fused together, permanent, strong, and secure.

  
_Art by Gloriana_   


*~*~*

Obi-Wan lay languidly, Qui-Gon's weight pressing him into the mattress, but his being, his sense of self felt light, floating, and whole. His fingers traced sweaty paths on Qui-Gon's face, reveling in the closeness, knowing that he had given such pleasure to him, and received it in return. He melted under the blue gaze that drew him in, made him his.

"I love you, Qui-Gon Jinn," he murmured. "I've waited so long to say that to someone. I love you."

"Obi-Wan. My Obi-Wan. I love you. You are worth the wait."

Qui-Gon shifted and let his softening cock slip out of Obi-Wan. They both sighed as it did, a bittersweet end of their first true coupling. Qui-Gon stretched out along Obi-Wan's side, and they kissed again, sweet, tender kisses, before they drew the blankets up over their cooling bodies and slept, peacefully and wholly one together.

*~*~*

Qui-Gon woke first, taking care to not disturb his bondmate as he stretched his sore muscles. Their bonding had happened in the wee hours of the morning, and now outside the window, dawn had broken. From the angle of the sunlight streaming in, it was late morning, at that.

Obi-Wan lay on his back, one arm thrown over his head, the other lightly grasping Qui-Gon's hand. His hair was tousled and spread across the pillow, strands stuck to his face where it had dried with the sweat. Qui-Gon found himself touching the boy, tracing him into memory as he slept. The shape of his face, the cleft of his chin, the softness of his lips.

The night before, as they talked about the bond and how to consummate it, Qui-Gon had expressed worry over the difference in their ages. Obi-Wan had hushed him, claiming that in his culture, he was the old one. The boy had taken Qui-Gon's face in his hands, running his thumbs across Qui-Gon's lips. "You'd be mine?" he asked, as if unable to believe his luck.

"Yours," Qui-Gon had answered, taking his hands and pressing promises into the palms. "Yours forever."

"Yours, my Obi-Wan."

"Mine," Obi-Wan whispered, blinking his eyes open. Sleepy and tousled, he made a lovely vision and Qui-Gon let out a contented sigh.

"Good morning, my love."

Obi-Wan stretched before snuggling close. "Do we have to get up?" he mumbled. "I'd rather stay here with you all day."

"Mmmm…" Qui-Gon growled, leaning into the light kisses being bestowed on his chest.  "I would, too, but Siri and I must take our leave and give our report to the Council. King Lorian needs to be told that you will be returning with us."

Obi-Wan sat up and turned away, scratching at his head. "And tell my parents."

"Yes."

"Do you really think there's a place for me on Coruscant?"

"You have a place by my side, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon chuckled, kneeling up behind Obi-Wan and nuzzling his neck.

"Ooh…ah…well, yes, of course, but what shall I do there? I've not earned my Masters, yet."

"Remember I mentioned before that we never have enough instructors for astronomy in the Temple? What do you think of being a teacher?" Qui-Gon asked him, running his hands up Obi-Wan's chest, his erection pressing into the small of the boy's back. "You can write your paper and send it back to your instructors here, couldn't you? Or even if you need to stay until you're done, it wouldn't be for very long."

Obi-Wan turned to twine his arms around Qui-Gon's neck and leaned close to kiss him. "I don't want to stay; I'm sure we can arrange it. And if I'm half the teacher you are, those students will know more than they ever wanted about galactic physics."

Qui-Gon fell gracefully back against the pillows, pulling Obi-Wan down onto him. There was time for another quick lesson, and Qui-Gon planned on teaching it thoroughly.

*~*~*

"I remember once, when you were child, I found you outside staring at those stars, and you said, 'he is waiting for me'. I didn't know what you meant; I asked, but you had fallen asleep. I suppose now I know."  Minera's voice at Obi-Wan's door caused him to drop the tunic he was folding. "So you're leaving."

Obi-Wan picked the tunic up, refolding it with trembling hands, smoothing the sleeves. It was soft, and golden brown, given to him by his mother on his last birthday. "Yes. I thought you disowned me," he added, arching one eyebrow.  

"I think you're making a mistake." Her tone held a tinge of venom in it; Obi-Wan cringed inwardly at just how much she was holding Qui-Gon responsible.

"I make no mistake in how I feel, Mother. Qui-Gon is the man I want to be with."

"Obi-Wan—please," Minera said, her voice softening to a wheedling, maternal tone. "Let me help you. We can find a good mind-healer, get you back on the right track. There's something wrong with you, darling. Let's find a way to fix it."

"Mother! Do you really think that I'm sick? That Qui-Gon is sick? Do you know that there are millions of beings in the galaxy just like us?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Mother, didn't you feel a connection with Father when you met? That he was 'the one', meant just for you?"

"Actually, no." Minera slowly entered the room and sank down onto the edge of Obi-Wan's bed, heedless of the clothing he had piled there. Two pairs of sleep pants slid to the floor onto her shoes. "But he was the sweetest to me. And honestly, I was the only girl who seemed to have any interest in him; he was so shy, and quiet. I think that was what drew me to him—he needed me. But love at first sight? No," she said with conviction. "That never happened. And I don't believe it's happened with you either, so don't try to convince me of it.  You're being played for a fool."

That Minera admitted to settling for Van surprised Obi-Wan. He wondered how his father felt about that. "No, Mother. I'm not. Qui-Gon's waited all this time for me. And now I realize—I was waiting for him. I had not one shred of interest in anyone on Tempen, Mother, not ever. Now that I've met him—oh, Mother, I feel as if I've finally emerged into the sunlight from a forest. I've always felt incomplete, half-hiding in shadows. Qui-Gon is my light. Now, I shine. Mother, I am so happy when I'm with him—can't you see? I'm happy!" He knelt before her and took her hands in his. "Don't you want me to be happy?"

"I want you to be happy! Of course I do. But I don't believe you will be happy leaving Tempen—and not with—him."

"His name is Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Mother. And I love him."

Minera closed her eyes as if in pain. "Please, don't say that."

"Why not? It's the truth. And we have a bond, Mother. A mental link—one that formed spontaneously. Qui-Gon calls it a Force-bond—the Force wanted us to be together."

"A what?" Minera asked, horrified. "A Force-bond? Obi-Wan, this man is frightening me. Telling you lies! That he's bound to you mentally, and that some invisible power believes two men should be together! Obi-Wan, we must see the healers! This is not healthy—this is not right!"

"How is the Force so different from our gods, Mother? We believe in them—or we used to," Obi-Wan defended. "You know the Jedi have powers—they use the Force—"

"To coerce innocent boys like yourself into deluding themselves!" Minera sputtered, standing abruptly and knocking Obi-Wan over in the process.

"No, Mother," Obi-Wan said softly from his sprawled position on the floor. He levered himself up to sit cross-legged, resting his elbows on his knees. "I've seen the bond myself. We completed it."

Fear and loathing crept onto Minera's face. She turned pale and grasped the footboard of the bed for support. "Exactly how did you 'complete' this—bond?"

"We consummated our relationship, Mother. We had as close to a wedding night as we could without an actual wedding. I followed Tempen rituals and Qui-Gon agreed to them as well. As far as we're concerned, Mother, we belong to one another now. Bonded. Married." He studied his hands in his lap for a moment. "I wish I could show the bond to you, Mother. It's so beautiful. A combination of our two souls. Having it means I'm Force-sensitive myself—I might have been a Jedi if we'd become a member of the Republic when I was a baby. I'll settle for a Jedi's bondmate, though."

Minera began to shake violently. "He touched you as a husband does his wife? Are you a woman now? Obi-Wan, this is so very wrong."

"No, Mother. I don't believe that."

A knock on the doorframe drew both of their attention. "Obi-Wan? Am I interrupting?"

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan breathed. "I was just explaining the bond to Mother."

Qui-Gon bowed to her. "I want you to know that I love your son very much, Lady Kenobi," he said, "and I know you are worried for him. Please let me reassure you, I have no intention of hurting him."

"You already have hurt him by making him serve your own demented ends," she hissed. "You don't care that you've twisted him, made him less of a man."

"Mother!" a shocked Obi-Wan cried. His mind fought to reconcile this woman with the memory of the one who had loved and coddled him as a child. She was not the same person—and neither was he, he realized. No longer her child.  No longer even a man, in her eyes.

She turned to Obi-Wan. "If you leave with this man, your father and I will disown you—for good."

Two pairs of flashing eyes stared at one another for a long moment. Obi-Wan realized that this was it—he'd have to choose. He looked to Qui-Gon for help, but he offered only compassion. This was Obi-Wan's final choice. Qui-Gon, even with the bond consummated, would still break it if Obi-Wan wished it, and Obi-Wan knew it.

"Please don't make me choose, Mother," he pleaded.

"Come home with me, Obi-Wan," she said. "Leave this filthy old man behind."

Obi-Wan's eyes felt hot, and his heart was hammering. He closed his eyes and saw the bond, felt the sadness emanating from Qui-Gon for him. It was not a sadness designed to inspire guilt; but rather sadness at Obi-Wan being forced to choose at all.

But it also offered support, and acceptance, and understanding, no matter what choice Obi-Wan made. And that is what decides it, Obi-Wan thought. Someone who accepts me as I am.

"No, Mother," Obi-Wan answered softly, his eyes glistening. "Maybe in the future, Tempen will be more tolerant of people like myself and Qui-Gon. Right now, I need to go where I will be happy. I love you, Mother, don't doubt that, please," he added, reaching for her hand. She snatched it away and stared at him, white-faced, before turning on her heel sharply and moving swiftly for the door. She paused before Qui-Gon, her hatred for him boring into his eyes, and then turned to leave, slamming the door behind her.

Obi-Wan stood stunned. It was rather symbolic; she closed the door on his childhood, shutting him out of her love forever.

Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan close, twining the fingers of one hand into the red-gold hair, and held him tightly as the slight body shuddered with sobs. They stood, rocking slightly, for a long time, before Obi-Wan collected his tattered thoughts and pulled away, swiping at his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what, Obi-Wan? For loving your mother? For feeling hurt? Don't be sorry for how you feel, love. Be honest with yourself."

Obi-Wan raised a tear-stained face to Qui-Gon's. "I love you," he whispered, and kissed him.

*~*~*

There was no one to see them off at the landing pad. The King had accepted Siri's explanations and reassurances, and gruffly wished Obi-Wan well, and thanked Qui-Gon and Siri for their work at establishing their Republic status. The Queen had hugged Obi-Wan and told him to take care of himself, giving polite nods to the Jedi. His instructors had tersely agreed to accept his paper sent via communications.

Obi-Wan stood at the top of the ramp, gazing out at Tempen City for one last time. Well, for now, anyway. Memories tumbled about his mind, flashes and images of friends and events, his time at school, late night stargazing with his mother, dreams of traveling into space.

And now, those dreams were coming true. At a price, to be sure, the full cost of which was yet to be determined. But he knew he had won a very special prize as well. He touched the bond, and felt a surge of love roll back to him, from the Jedi master inside the ship, waiting for him to finish saying goodbye to the only home he'd ever known.

As he turned to enter the hatch, he heard his name called. Below him, his father was huffing to get to the ship before it left. "Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan hurried down the ramp to meet him, allowing himself to be wrapped in a tight embrace.

"I was so afraid I'd miss you," Van puffed.

"I'm glad you came," Obi-Wan said. "I didn't think you wanted to see me. Mother said—"

"Pah! on what your mother said. She didn't consult me first." He waved his hand angrily as if to banish her. "Obi-Wan. You are my son. Always. Don't let her make you think otherwise."

Obi-Wan's eyes glistened. "Father, may I ask you a question? You said you understood our feelings better then we realized—what did you mean?"

"Ah, Obi-Wan. Have you not guessed?" Van flushed and glanced around for anyone nearby. "You are not so unusual in your predilections, my son."

Obi-Wan gaped at his father. "You—but Mother—"

"Hush, Obi-Wan. Keep this between you and me, eh? I am not as brave as you are, and I do love your mother, after a fashion. But I wanted to tell you—I'm so very proud of you. So very proud."

"Oh, Father," Obi-Wan said, drawing him close again. "Thank you."

Van patted his son's back as they embraced. After a few moments, he noted movement at the top of the ramp. "Looks like it's time for you to go, son."

Obi-Wan turned to look up at his bondmate, waiting for him. As he had for so long, patiently, lovingly. "I guess it is."

Van walked beside his son as they ascended the ramp, extending his hand to Qui-Gon when they reached him.

"Master Jinn. I am entrusting my son to you. He is special."

Qui-Gon gripped Sir Kenobi's hand tightly. "I agree. He is. And I promise you, I will care for him."

"Love him. He deserves your love," Van whispered, then embraced Obi-Wan one last time before hurrying down the ramp.

He stood in the grass, watching the ship as it rose gracefully in the air, flying low over the palace before a final burst of speed shot it into the atmosphere.

From the window Obi-Wan watched his home fall quickly away, straining to see it even after it faded into the brilliance of other stars and planets as they whisked by. Qui-Gon took his hand.

He was going home, to live among the stars.

_~end_

**"On and on the rain will fall  
** Like tears from a star  
Like tears from a star  
On and on the rain will say  
How fragile we are  
How fragile we are."

~Sting

**Author's Note:**

> The 'ancient language' used by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan on their bonding night was created by Elocin Oco. I must thank The Emu for looking at this story idea I'd given up on, making some off-the-cuff comments, and thus feeding my muse. Also great thanks must go to Lori for the initial beta read before I sucked up the courage to send it to the editors, and for providing a spot on her website for me; Gloriana for her "lectures"; MrsHamill for her encouragement, and countless others for their critical feedback, advice, and general handholding. Without you all, I would not be here enjoying myself so much.


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